The Life of the Signless
by MsWikit
Summary: One act of compassion changes the course of Alternia's history. A grub is plucked from the caverns and carried to the world, where he is raised by a watchful custodian and a ragtag band of feral trolls. This work chronicles his origins, the entirety of his life, and his eventual death.
1. the Hatching Caverns

The cavern floor was moving. It was a writhing, thrashing rainbow of young trolls. A brood of hundreds of thousands of eggs had just hatched, and the grubs were exploring their new (though limited) world. Their squeals, clicks, and shrieks reverberated off the walls and turned five hundred thousand grubs into five hundred million.

Porrim did not mind the activity. The caverns were typically enveloped in a hushed silence. The other handmaids rarely spoke. Most of them were old, and performed their duties deftly and quietly. According to them, noise upset the Mother Grub. That was why, shortly after a brood was laid, all the eggs were moved into hatching caverns. Every other part of the caverns was shrouded in silence. Attempting to start conversation earned you little more than a dirty look. After a sweep underground, she had learned that it was better to find other ways to occupy herself. She had taken to sewing her own clothes, though material was often hard to come by. Some nights she had to simply sit and endure the silence when all she wanted to do was scream. Scream and scream and scream, so that everyone in Alternia could hear her.

The hatching caverns were thus a welcome change. The chaos, the ear-splitting noise...it was heaven to her. Though it was a brief relief from the monotony. Her errand – to deliver the list of needed supplies – was a short one. Soon she would be back at her station, performing her duties in deft silence...scrubbing down the Mother Grub's engorged stomach, feeding her, supplying her with genetic material, all the things she had been doing every night for the past sweep.

A grub scuttled across her foot, squealing loudly. They were all in a mad dash to find food. Anything and everything could be a meal for a grub. Egg shells, mites, small creatures that roamed the cavern floor, and unhatched eggs would all be suitable for a newly hatched wriggler. But competition was fierce. Those who didn't eat, didn't survive.

Porrim smiled slightly, lightly stepping around the grubs. None of them seemed to notice her. They all were wrapped up in their own simplistic worlds. The only things that concerned them were how to move their legs, how to find food, how to survive in this new world. What a thrill it would be to only be focused on such simple things. They had no responsibilities, no duties. The only thing they had to concern themselves with was surviving until pupation. Which, for a grub, is quite the feat. But to her it seemed blissfully simple.

A loud squeal interrupted her thoughts. She looked down and found that, in her inattention, she had almost stepped on a grub. Porrim glanced down to step around it, only to almost fall over from shock.

The grub curled up at her feet was the brightest red she had ever seen. Not burgundy, not maroon, but _red_. He stared up at her indignantly, apparently irritated his nap had been disturbed. His face was dusted with freckles, and his horns were short and rounded. But all Porrim could focus on was his color. Was it possible for a grub to be that color? Were her eyes playing tricks on her?

Without realizing what she was doing, Porrim reached down and picked up the grub. He let out an angry squeal and attempted to bite her hand. But all she was concerned with was his coloring.

Bright red. Candy red.

"You're a mutant, aren't you?" Porrim whispered. During her time underground, she had seen only a handful of mutants. They were exceedingly rare, and most of them didn't last long. Sometimes you found them curled up in the corner, withered and still, already gone. Other times they could be seen in the crowd, trying desperately to survive. The other handmaidens often recommended that the ones found alive should be killed.

_It's more merciful that way, _Porrim thought, carrying the grub over to the wall. It would be quick. She would dash his head against the wall, and it would be over. No suffering. No fear. If this mutant somehow managed to survive, he would die in the caverns after emerging from pupation. There would be no lusus to take him. No comforting abomination to choose him, shelter him...he'd starve in the caverns, long after all the other surviving wrigglers had ascended with their custodians.

She reached the cavern wall. There were already a few dead grubs there. How did they all automatically know to crawl off to the sides, rather than die in the horde? Why did they all choose to die alone against the stone wall? Porrim couldn't guess. Water dripped down on to her head, and on to the grub's. He squealed shrilly and tucked his face against her breast, seeking shelter.

"It's just water," she said softly. "It won't bother you in a moment."

It had to be done now. Nice and quick. A simple act of mercy. Porrim detached him from her bosom, holding him easily in one hand. She couldn't hold back. If she did, she'd merely hurt the grub. His pained screams would echo through the cavern, and she would be haunted by them each time she slept. She found a spot on the wall and focused on it.

_Quick and easy. _

The grub whined as another droplet of water landed on his head.

_One..._

_Tw-_

The grub let out a squeal, and sank his small sharp teeth into her finger.

Porrim frowned, wrenching her finger free from his mouth. A hint of dark green blood could be seen where his teeth had broken her skin. Impressive, for a grub. So he had a little bit of fight in him.

Perhaps just enough.

"See what you did?" Porrim said, showing him her finger. "You drew blood."

He stared at her finger, then licked it. She laughed. The little one looked back at her, cocking his head to one side. For a moment he looked confused. Then he cooed at her and mimicked her smile. It made her chuckle again. In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she had just witnessed his first smile. Perhaps, she thought, she could bring about his first laugh as well. Porrim cradled him close and tickled his belly. The grub squealed, wiggling his legs and smiling.

"You're much cuter when you smile, you know," Porrim said, looking into his candy red eyes. The color didn't seem quite so shocking now. It was something she could get used to. "You should do that more often."

The grub cooed in response.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, crooning over him. Slowly he began to fall asleep in her arms. His eyes drifted shut, and his head rested comfortably against her breast. It hit her suddenly that she couldn't just kill this grub. She couldn't let him die.

But what was she supposed to do? No lusus would take him. It wasn't as if she could raise him herself-

...or could she?

The idea hit her like a bolt of lightning. It was completely unheard of. Unnatural. And yet...and yet, she knew it was his only chance. She was his only chance of survival. And he was her reason to leave the caverns. Deep in her heart, she hated it here. As a young troll, Porrim had a hive out in the desert. It had been beautiful. Every day she would throw open the windows to let the sun shine on her skin and stare at the bright blue sky. Then, when she came of age, she was forced to live and work in the dark, damp underground caverns of Alternia.

Well, no more. She was escaping. And she was escaping with her candy red grub.

* * *

The exit she found deposited them in the middle of a desert. Rolling dunes surrounded them on all sides. An impossibly bright star hung directly overhead. The air was crisp and fresh. A soft breeze was blowing. Porrim closed her eyes to take it in. For the first time in a sweep, she was on the surface. She could feel the wind, see the sky, do as she pleased. It was exhilarating.

"We're free now, little one," Porrim murmured, cradling the grub with both arms. She began to walk across the dunes. At first her feet felt unsteady on the sand. They were so used to the hard stone floor of the cavern, that the desert felt unstable and unfamiliar. But she quickly remembered how to carry herself. Her hive had been located in the middle of a desert after all. Most of her time as a wriggler was spent rolling down sand hills and giggling, all while underneath the watchful eye of her lusus. Being back among the dry, dusty dunes was like coming home.

They traveled through the night and into the day. Porrim was careful to shield the grub – her grub, as she now thought of him – from the harsh rays of the sun. She'd stolen a few night's provisions upon their escape, but they wouldn't last them long. Growing grubs ate nonstop. He cried for food constantly, and when he received it it vanished almost instantaneously. And though she attempted to ration everything carefully, their supplies were depleted seven nights after their escape. By that point the desert had slowly begun to change. Dry grass and trees sporadically dotted the dunes. The dunes began to give away to hot, flat stretches of land. These, at least, occasionally offered shade and water. At ten days, Porrim began to fear her grub was dying. He'd stopped screaming for food, and instead seemed to crumble into himself. There was no light in his candy red eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep, and that alarmed her.

Porrim found a cluster of cacti on the twelfth night of their journey. She harvested the fruit and fed almost all of it to her grub. It seemed to rejuvenate him, and he cooed happily all through the night.

Their journey continued on for another four nights. At that point, both she and her grub were starting to weaken. The tiny oasises of water and cactus fruit were gone. It was freezing at night, and too hot to move during the day. Porrim was beginning to think they would both die among the dry grass and rocks.

Until, on the sixteenth night, something short of a miracle occurred.

As night fell and Porrim began to contemplate giving up, she saw something in the distance. A fire. Multiple fires. She could see shadows moving and tents being erected. Voices floated towards her through the still night air.

_Feral trolls, _Porrim thought. There were small groups of them all across Alternia. They were considered pests by some, dangerous by others. Horrible, nasty stories circulated around ferals. They killed without discrimination, they practiced cannibalism regularly, many of them were dangerous criminals and runaway slaves. All of them were unpredictable and dangerous, and should be killed on sight. All of these she contemplated as she stared at the burning fires.

In her arms, her grub let out a pitiful whimper.

Without a second thought, she ran towards the camp.

* * *

No one saw her approaching. It was only when she stepped into the light of the fire was she noticed. The trolls wasted no time. Someone grabbed her by the horns and threw her on to the ground. Her grub went flying from her arms and landed near the fire. There was a whirlwind of yelling and weapons being drawn. Eyes of every color and hue glared at her from all sides. Someone pressed a blade to the back of her neck.

A momentary silence fell. Her grub began to cry.

All heads snapped towards the sound, including Porrim's. She reached one hand out towards him, but couldn't reach. A few gasps and murmurs ran through the group. Someone leaned down and picked him up, holding him easily with one hand.

"DON'T HURT HIM!" Porrim screamed.

The attention turned back towards her. She kept her eyes on her little one. He was crying still, screaming to be held. "Please. Please, just don't hurt him."

"Let her up," someone said gruffly. "I'm sure she won't be any trouble so long as Tempis has a hold on that one."

Slowly, the feral trolls backed off. But they kept their weapons drawn and their eyes narrowed at Porrim. The troll who had spoken walked forward. He wasn't old, but he wasn't incredibly young either. One of his legs seemed to have some sort of deformity, and he walked with the aid of a wooden cane. The others moved aside for him and bowed their heads respectfully.

"Who are you?" the troll demanded.

"Porrim Maryam," Porrim answered.

"Why, may I ask, do you have a grub with you?" He frowned at her and leaned on his cane. Porrim stared up into his eyes. It was difficult to tell, but she thought his eyes were dark brown. There was an ugly scar just underneath his right eye, and the tip of one of his horns had been broken off. "Lady, it'd be in your best interest to answer my questions when I ask 'em. Understand?"

"I rescued him," Porrim answered quietly. "From the caverns."

The trolls began to talk amongst themselves, discussing this new piece of information with the person directly beside them. The troll called Tempis frowned down at the grub in her hands. He was still crying, and he was now attempting to bite her hand.

"Quiet!" shouted their leader. All talk ended, and the only sound that could still be heard was her grub's pitiful wailing. The leader looked back at Porrim. "You're a jade blood, then?"

She nodded. "I found him. And...I took him."

"Why?" he asked.

"Look at him! He's...he's a mutant. No lusus would take him. He would have died in the caverns," Porrim said, staring past him to look at her grub. "I tried to kill him. But I couldn't. So...I took him instead."

The leader seemed satisfied with these answers. He turned towards Tempis and held out his hand. She happily turned over the grub and began to nurse her bleeding finger. The troll stared at her grub, frowning deeply. "Now that's a mutant if I ever saw one. Candy red blood. Never even heard of that before. He might be the first of his kind. And the last of it, too."

Her heart was pounding in her ears. What was he going to do to him? Kill him? Kill both of them? The thought of his candy red blood spilled on the sand made her sick to her stomach.

Without another word, the leader handed him back to her. A relieved smile broke across Porrim's face. She hugged him close, and in that moment swore she'd never let him go. "Shhh...it's alright, little one, it's alright...I'm here..."

Slowly, his cries began to fade. Over the past sixteen nights, he'd learned that Porrim's words and caresses meant safety. It meant he was safe from the blinding sun or the freezing winds. He was safe from desert serpents and thirst and hunger. Being in her arms reassured him that all was well and all would be well.

"You act like you're the damn thing's lusus." The troll shook his head, frowning. "But I don't think you two are a threat to us. I'll call together a Council meeting, and we'll discuss whether or not you two can join us."

Porrim frowned at him. "I don't wish to join you. I just need food for the grub, and water-"

"You don't understand," he interrupted. "We can't risk you going off and getting caught by a bunch of threshecutioners and telling them where they can find a bunch of ferals in order to keep from getting your throat cut. You either join us, or you die. That's the deal."

With that, he turned and limped off.


	2. Kankri

Tashun, the troll who she'd presumed was the leader, was in fact one of _twelve _leaders. The other feral trolls referred to them solely as the Council. They were certainly a colorful group. Almost every hue on the hemospectrum was represented, not counting violet and fuchsia. But blood did not seem to have any bearing. The lowbloods spoke just as often and as freely as the highbloods. Perhaps because almost all of them seemed to have one thing in common: almost all of them had some sort of mutation or deformity.

There was Tashun, the brown blood with the limp; Lacene, a jade blood whose skin lit up like the sun when she got angry; Kiroph, a purple blood who had fins instead of ears; Nilcir, a young red blood who had no horns to speak of; Tutela, a purple blood with thick armored plates across her body; Shokan, a cerulean blood who had a second set of arms; and Pruina, whose skin and hair were white as snow. Though five of them – Viovis, Toazol, Jupaza, Kennoe, and Sanuor – looked completely normal.

Porrim had plenty of time to memorize their names and faces. She sat before them with her grub in her lap for hours. They went back and forth, debating and arguing their various points. Some wanted to let her and the grub in. Others didn't trust her. She'd stopped paying attention to the debate about four hours before. It was too stressful. At first it seemed to lean towards killing her, then it seemed like they would let her in. Back and forth, back and forth. It was emotionally exhausting. By that point she'd blocked them out completely, and instead paid attention to her grub. He was wide awake and hungry again. To distract him (and herself) she tickled his stomach and teased him by gently tugging his hair. It was fun for both of them, and kept Porrim's mind off what was being said.

"...so have we reached an agreement?" Lacene said suddenly, snapping Porrim back to attention. There were nods all around the table. Their eyes turned towards her and the grub. Some of them were frowning, some were smiling.

"Porrim Maryam," said Kennoe, feigning a formal voice, "we have decided to accept you _and _your grub into the tribe."

She let out a breath she did not know she had been holding.

"His food rations will come out of yours until he's big enough to do some work," Kiroph added firmly. "And he's your responsibility. No one else's. Understand?"

Porrim nodded quickly. "I understand."

"You may go." Lacene dismissed her with the wave of of her hand.

* * *

Her grub shifted uneasily in the sling, squealing quietly. He still wasn't used to it, nor did he like it. But the sling gave Porrim a way to carry him while keeping her hands free. It didn't seem as though he would be able to use it for long, anyway. In the past two weeks he had almost doubled in size. Most of her food rations had gone towards him, and he was beginning to grow. If he continued at the rate he should, her grub would be too big for the sling in another two weeks.

"Shh, little one, shhh," she said, attempting to hush him. Porrim ran her fingers through his hair, reassuring him that she was still there. Her little one grew quiet, though he had an almost sullen expression on his face.

Porrim smiled and went back to work. Her group had discovered a very large patch of edible plants. Or, rather, plants with edible roots. They'd spent half the night sitting on their knees and digging them up. The result was four baskets full of roots, with the number continuing to grow. It was going to be a great haul. Everyone back at the camp would be pleased. They would need plenty of food to last them through third winter, and the forest was bountiful.

"It's really amazing, you know," Nilcir said, glancing over at Porrim. "He's bonded to you like you're his lusus. No one thought that was possible. It's fascinating."

She smiled slightly. "Fascinating?"

Nilcir nodded eagerly, momentarily setting her work aside. "There was this study I read about that never got approval. A group of scientists wanted permission to go into the hatching caverns and harvest grubs. They thought that a grub would attach itself to whoever raised it, whether that was a troll or a lusus or even a drone."

"Why didn't they get approval?" Porrim asked, yanking a plant from the ground.

"Something about violating the laws of nature. And it would pose a threat to the Mother Grub," Nilcir replied. She shrugged and went back to work. "But you two have managed well enough."

Porrim nodded, twisting them stem off one of the plants. She tossed it back into her basket with the flick of her wrist. Her grub whined and rolled over in the sling, attempting another escape attempt. It was promptly foiled by his custodian, who only chuckled at him. "He likes me better than most people, at least; he's stopped trying to bite me."

Nilcir chuckled. "That's a good sign, I suppose."

"This really is the best place for him," Porrim said quietly, digging her nails into the soil. "He'll be around other trolls like him."

Her companion raised her eyebrows. "As far as I can tell, he's the only one like him."

"No, I mean...trolls that are different," Porrim said. She gestured with one dirt-covered hand at Nilcir's hornless head. "He won't feel quite as out of place."

"I think he'll always feel out of place." Nilcir pulled another plant from the ground. "I know I do. You feel...different. All the time. And my mutation isn't really that big. He's on a whole different level; he shouldn't even _exist_."

Porrim hissed. "Don't say that."

"Porrim, he's going to hear it no matter where he is," Nilcir said with a frown. "People are going to call him a freak. A mistake. A fuck-up. A piece of shit. A monster. Even here, in the Tribe. It's going to be a part of his life. There's nothing you can do about that. So just accept it, and let him learn to deal with it when it comes."

She opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. What Nilcir said – though hard to stomach – was one hundred percent true. Her grub would always be an outcast. Even in the wild, where the rules had been turned on their back. There was no place for him anywhere in their world. Nothing she did or said could change that. But she could be there. She would hold him when he cried and teach him how to fight back. How to throw their own venom back in their faces. How to defend himself.

"He'll deal with it," Porrim replied, looking down at him. "And he'll grow from it."

* * *

Several weeks passed, until one night Porrim awoke to find that her grub had vanished. In his place was a candy red chrysalis, hanging suspended from the roof of her tent. His pupation had begun.

So the waiting began. Porrim carried on her work and duties as per usual. The Tribe was largely focused on amassing a food supply, and much of her time was spent foraging or hunting. Occasionally she would stay behind to weave clothes or patch up damaged tents. Other nights she was put on water duty, the most hated job in the Tribe. It entailed walking to the nearest source of water (typically a kilometer away), filling a large jug until it was in danger of spilling, and carrying it all the way back to the camp. The work was laborious, and she often found herself dumping water all over the ground and was forced to go back for more. The one perk was that she no longer had to divide her food rations between herself and her grub. At least, not until he hatched.

There were nights when she would sit next to the chrysalis and try to see in. It was difficult, but at times she thought she could see his silhouette. On those nights she would sing to him, softly serenading him as he went through his hibernation.

Her status in the Tribe slowly increased. When she'd first joined, both she and her grub were regarded with cold distrust. Only a handful of trolls, such as Nilcir, would make conversation with her. As time went on, the others began to warm up to her slightly. Sometimes they asked about her grub. And the question she received most often was: "What will you name him?"

A troll lived without a name until they were chosen by a lusus. Their lusus would name them by making a specific sound, often to call the wriggler to them in case of danger. That sound turned into their name. But Porrim was a troll, not a lusus. How was she supposed to go about it? There were trolls that she could name him after. Great warriors and conquerors. There was Aazoth, the first troll to invade and take control of an alien planet. Or Cloros, a great artist and inventor. She tossed hundreds of names around in her head, and even asked others for suggestions. Many of them tossed out names of famous generals, such as Mamool, Belias, Rosier, Luvart, and Pesado. But none of them seemed to fit her grub. There were a few names that got her attention, but after a few nights of mulling them over didn't seem to fit.

Her grub was a unique one, and he deserved a name that was all his own. How she would come up with that name, she had no idea.

Towards the end of his pupation, summer turned to autumn. The Tribe began to prepare for their next big move. They would finish out the sweep in another camp, farther south and away from the chill of winter. The drawback was that they would be closer to towns and cities than they would have liked. But trying to withstand the winter in their current location would be suicide.

Preparations for the journey began. Porrim prayed that her grub would emerge soon. She was not sure if they would be able to move the chrysalis before he'd emerged. If they found they could not, she would be forced to leave him behind. He would hatch from pupation and find himself completely alone with winter approaching fast. Staying behind with him wouldn't be an option. Nobody went out on their own, especially not for an extended period of time. It was too much of a security risk.

While everyone was busy with the arrangements, Porrim began to prepare for her wriggler. She sewed him clothes out of leftover cloth. There was no way to know how big or small he would be, and to stay on the safe side she sewed him clothes of all sizes. If they were too big, he could always grow into them. Just so long as he would have enough to get him through the winter. She lined some of the coats and cloaks with pawbeast fur, and made everything from the warmest materials they had available. Her fear was that, if he hatched on time, he might not last through the winter.

Their final days at the camp required them to cover up all evidence that they had been there. They scattered the ashes from their fires, recovered all their traps, and scoured the camp for stray tools and pieces of cloth. It was an extremely stressful time for all of them. One person had misplaced an arrow, another couldn't find their jacket. An ax had been lost somewhere in the forest. Porrim felt as though everyone was trying to erase their footprints before they even made them.

It was during this brief scramble that her grub emerged from pupation.

On their second to last night at the camp, Porrim awoke and found there were two cracks in his chrysalis. They began in the center up near the top, and ran down each side in a V shape. A thrill of excitement went through her, but she couldn't wait around all night for him to hatch. There was much work to be done. All of the food was being gathered, preserved, and assigned to various trolls to be carried. She spent all night packing wild fruits into baskets while eying her tent. When she was done, she rushed back to her tent.

The cracks were wider. She could see gray skin and black hair. The wriggler was pushing on the center of the chrysalis, using his limbs for the first time. Porrim sat in front of the chrysalis and watched in silent wonder.

The movement paused.

Then, suddenly, the wriggler came tumbling out of the chrysalis head first. The drop was short – perhaps two feet – and he landed flat on his back. Porrim couldn't help but laugh. Her little one had just headbutted his way into the world, which perhaps wasn't a bad way to start things.

The wriggler stared up at the tent ceiling for a moment, blinking his eyes. He had not used them in almost half a sweep. His irises had turned gray, and it was now impossible to tell his blood color. Her little one was just like any other wriggler in Alternia now. He was about one sweep old, though he was rather small for his age. Dark gray freckles still dusted his cheeks, though they were now visible on his shoulders and back as well. His horns were short and rounded. Everything about him seemed healthy, despite his slight stature. Porrim thought he was the most handsome wriggler she'd ever seen.

Slowly, he began to sit up. It was a struggle, but young trolls learned fast. Typically after emerging from pupation, they would be forced to go through the trials. Those required little ones to not only stand, but run. If a wriggler who couldn't run within six hours of emerging from their chrysalis, they wouldn't have a chance.

He succeeded in sitting up. When he saw Porrim, he smiled. His small hands reached out for her.

_He remembers me, _Porrim thought with a smile. She held her arms out to him. "Come to me, little one."

"Riiii!" squealed the wriggler. He continued to reach for her. But, after a minute or so, he began to realize that she would not be coming to him. That left only one course of action. Her wriggler began to test his legs. They were awkward and shaky; it took him several tries to stand. When he attempted to take a step, he fell. But he wasn't discouraged. With some more struggling and some determined squealing, he got back on his feet.

This time, he managed to get three steps in before falling. Porrim couldn't help but giggle.

"Riiii!" he growled at her. He sent a reproachful look in her direction as he got back on his feet. She covered her mouth to hide her smile.

On his third attempt at walking, her wriggler succeeded in smoothly navigating the remaining distance between them. He fell into her lap, giggling. "Riii! Riiii!"

"See? I knew you could do it," Porrim said, setting her hand on his cheek. "And you did it all by yourself."

He looked up into her eyes and grinned. Suddenly she felt as though she'd been shot through the chest. That smile was so innocent. So trusting. So _beautiful_. A surge of emotion rushed through her veins. It was a completely new, untapped emotion. It was the feeling of having a life in your hands and nurturing it. It was the feeling of bringing something precious and wonderful into the world. For a moment she was reminded of how the Mother Grub would look over the newly laid eggs before they were taken away. There had been in a look in her eyes, a look that Porrim had not understood until now. It was love. Pure, unadulterated love.

She was the Mother Grub, and this little wriggler was her brood. Tears filled her eyes, though why she could not really say. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for almost half a sweep now, little one."

"Riii?" he said, tilting his head to one side.

"I'm happy you're finally here." Porrim hugged him close, and he rested his cheek against her shoulder. She smiled. "I guess I can't avoid naming you any longer, now can I? Let's see...what to call you...Cloros, maybe? Or perhaps-"

"Kankri?" said the wriggler, looking at her questioningly.

"...Kankri." Porrim repeated. She raised her eyebrows. It was almost as if the little one had answered her question.

"Kankri!" cheered the wriggler.

She was about to dismiss it as just childish wriggler babble, but it suddenly struck her that it might not be a bad name for him. It was unique. And hadn't she decided he deserved a name that was all his own? "Do you want to be Kankri, then?"

"Kankri," he answered.

Porrim smiled. "Alright, then I suppose you are Kankri."

"Riiii," Kankri cooed. He smiled again, and Porrim kissed his nose.


	3. Snowtrolls

"Are you hungry?" Porrim asked, offering Kankri a wriggler-sized piece of meat.

"No," he answered.

"Are you sure?" Porrim raised her eyebrows.

"No." He held out his hands for the food and grinned.

Chuckling, Porrim handed it to him. Almost seven nights after his pupation, Kankri's vocabulary had doubled. In addition to knowing his own name (which he said constantly), he had learned the word 'no'. Perhaps because the phrase "Kankri, no!" was becoming very common among the members of the Tribe. Porrim hadn't realized how much trouble wrigglers could be.

The food was gone in a matter of moments. He held his hands back out for more.

"That's all for now, little one," Porrim told him. They still had another week to go on their journey to the new camp, and even once they got there food would be strictly rationed.

Still Kankri persisted. He looked at her pleadingly.

"I don't have any more food right now," she said. Porrim pulled him into her lap and wrapped her arms around him. The Tribe had set up camp for the night after the snow had started to fall. They'd predicted a nasty storm, and no one wanted to get caught in it. She looked around at all the camp fires and tents, pondering if they would be enough to keep out winter's icy claws.

Her little one sighed heavily, resting his head against her chest.

Porrim ran her hand through his hair. "I know. It's been a long night, hasn't it?"

He nodded, closing his eyes. They had spent the majority of the night traveling towards the next camp. In order to hide their numbers, the Tribe walked in single file and attempted to step in each other's footsteps. That way, if anyone attempted to track them, it might only appear that there were two or three trolls rather than forty. Kankri had hopped from footprint to footprint, giggling and squealing with glee. When he became too tired for that, Porrim carried him on her shoulders.

"When spring comes, it'll be better," she assured him. "We'll have more food. And you'll learn all sorts of new words."

"No." He hid his face in Porrim's shoulder.

His custodian chuckled. "Yes, you will."

It was only then did she realize that someone was watching them. Clutching Kankri closer, she looked around for some prowling beast or mysterious stranger. But eventually she realized that their observers were sitting beside one of the fires. Every so often one of them would look over, frown, and shake their heads in disgust.

"Not natural..." muttered a troll. She racked her brain for his name, and finally remembered that he was called Tarsus.

"The troll custodian or the mutantblood?" asked his companion.

"Both," he answered, shooting Porrim a dark glare.

Porrim wanted to go confront him, but she thought better of it. Instead she stood, still holding Kankri, and walked to their tent. In-fighting was forbidden in the Tribe. All disputes had to be taken to the Council for them to resolve. Though this matter wasn't worth the walk to their tents. No one would care that someone had called her and her wriggler unnatural. Especially when she was sure certain members of the Council agreed with that statement.

She laid Kankri down on a pile of rags, which served as their sleeping place. There was no way to carry and transport recuperacoons. So everyone had to sleep on mats, pallets, or piles of soft materials. There was a very limited amount of sopor slime, and it was only used if a person's sleep deprivation began to interfere with their work. It didn't bother her as much as it would bother Kankri. Once trolls hit puberty, the nightmares worsened considerably and didn't let up until they were well into adulthood. She wondered how he'd ever get any sleep.

"I don't care what they say," she said, brushing Kankri's hair out of his eyes. "You're completely natural. You came from the Mother Grub just like the rest of us, didn't you?"

Kankri cooed and smiled up at her. "No."

"Are you sure about that?" Porrim asked, smiling in return.

"No," he answered.

She chuckled and kissed his forehead. "Go to sleep, little one. You need the rest."

It didn't take Kankri long to drift off to sleep. The night had left him completely exhausted. Porrim laid down beside him. She tried to sleep, but she kept thinking about the remarks she'd heard. Nilcir was right; even amongst a group of mutants and outcasts, Kankri would always be alone. It was only just beginning. How was she going to prepare him for this sort of life? What could she possibly do or say to make things better?

Eventually, Porrim drifted off to sleep. She had nightmares about the Tribe killing Kankri to pieces so that his candy red blood spattered across the ground.

* * *

"Mother!" Kankri said, tugging on her dress. "Mother! Up!"

Porrim sighed and looked down at him. The Tribe had been trudging through knee-high snow for the past five nights. In that short amount of time Kankri had learned a variety of words: Mother, up, down, and yes. She was delighted at his progress, but he had been quite the burden. Since the snow was so high, he could not walk through it. He had to be carried. This did not mean he wanted to be. He would squirm and try to escape her grasp, making much more work for her. The snow had abated slightly, and now that he had to walk, Kankri wanted nothing more to be carried.

"No, Kankri," she said. "You can walk. Go on, we have to keep moving."

"Up!" he insisted.

"I'll carry him!" Kennoe appeared behind Porrim suddenly, making her jump. "C'mere, ya little wriggler."

Seconds later Kankri was sitting on her shoulders, looking slightly confused but pleased. He grabbed her horns to help with balance, and squealed as she trotted ahead.

"Kennoe, you really don't have to, he's my-" Porrim began, hurrying after her.

"Don't worry about it, Maryam," Kennoe turned around, grinning at her. "The rules are you can't ask anyone for help with him. But I volunteered!"

That didn't ease her mind at all. Kennoe was a highblood. She was once a highblood, and at one point in her life was an esteemed threshecutioner. That itself would have been bad enough, but she was also completely unpredictable. One night she'd decided she was tired of her life, freed an entire ship full of slaves, and became a fugitive on the run. She was unstable. And Porrim didn't want a troll like that carrying around her charge.

"Kennoe, really, it's alright-" Porrim said, reaching for Kankri.

Kennoe stepped back, still grinning. "What? Don't trust me?"

"Frankly," Porrim said, "no. Not at all."

"Guess I just have to earn your trust then. C'mon, nubs! We're going up to the front of the line!" Kennoe said. Before Porrim could stop her, she ran ahead to the front of the train. Kankri was giggling and squealing the entire way. He even turned around to wave goodbye.

While his mother attempted to catch up, Kankri was enjoying himself. Kennoe wasn't as heavily burdened as his mother (as she only had to carry supplies for one), and she ran swiftly through the snow. Other trolls glared at them as they ran past, but he didn't care. He liked the feeling of the cold wind running through his hair, and Kennoe was much more entertaining than his custodian. They stopped near the front of the line, where the quickest and most able-bodied trolls walked. He and Mother always had to walk near the back, as he slowed them down.

"Doing alright up there, nubs?" Kennoe asked.

"Yes!" he answered.

At that moment another Council member, Jupaza, turned around to glare at him. "Kennoe, I thought we all agreed that he was Porrim's responsibility."

"We did! But no one said I couldn't kidnap the little guy for a while," Kennoe answered with a bright grin. "Besides, look at his cute little face. You aren't really gonna make this delicate wriggler walk all this way, are you?"

Jupaza merely huffed and kept walking.

During this exchange, Kankri had decided to take a look around. He was old enough to realize he was being talked about, but not quite old enough to care. Everything else just seemed much more interesting.

The forest was beginning to thin out and give way to large meadows and glades. Snow covered everything, and wild beasts occasionally ran across their path. The world was bright and new for him. Every time they passed underneath a low hanging branch, he would reach up and try to grab it. At one point he succeeded and dumped snow on to both of their heads.

Kennoe laughed. "Why'd you go and do that, nubs? Now we're both cold and wet."

"Yes!" Kankri cheered.

"Was that your evil plan all along?" Kennoe asked, brushing snow off her arms. "To dump snow on my head? No wonder Maryam is tired all the time; you're a little devil!"

Kankri only giggled and shook the snow off his head. At that moment a familiar pair of hands plucked him off of Kennoe's shoulders and brushed the rest of the snow off his clothes. He smiled up at Porrim, reaching his hands up and wrapping them around her neck. "Mother!"

"Hey Maryam," Kennoe said, grinning. "That wriggler of yours is a piece of work."

Porrim frowned at her, clutching Kankri close. He was unhurt, and seemed perfectly happy. But she was still angry that Kennoe had run off with him. The only person she trusted to look after Kankri was herself. It was true that she was in completely uncharted territory; no troll had ever attempted to raise a wriggler. Porrim knew as much about wriggler raising as anyone else did. But Kankri was hers, and hers alone.

"Never run off with him again!" she hissed. "Do you understand me?"

Kennoe shrugged. "I was just trying to help. If people see a member of the Council running around with him on their shoulders, well, maybe they'll open up to him more. You get me?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, your wriggler is the youngest one in this little merry band. And he's also got one of the weirdest mutations anyone's ever come across, and that's saying a lot. I mean, have you seen Tetula? The more other people get to know him, the better," Kennoe explained. "When people don't understand something, they tend to want to stick a knife in it."

Porrim didn't want to admit it, but Kennoe did have a point. She looked down at Kankri, who was still smiling away. If only he could stay this blissfully ignorant the rest of his life. It would save him a great deal of pain. "I understand you mean well. I just don't like it when he's out of my sight. If I can't see him, I start thinking of everything that could go wrong. He could fall and hurt himself, or get attacked by a beast. Or a million other things. The only way I can know he's safe is if he's right here with me."

"That won't be possible much longer. Wriggler like that is going to get himself in more and more trouble the bigger he gets," Kennoe said, smirking at Kankri. "If you try to keep him on a leash, he'll just gnaw it off."

With that, Kennoe kept walking. The others began to pass them, barely looking at either of them. When all the others had gone past, Porrim fell back into line with Kankri still in her arms.

"Mother?" he said.

She looked down at him.

"Up?" Kankri smiled at her.

Porrim sighed a bit, then nodded. She carefully lifted him up on to her shoulders, where he remained for the rest of the night.

* * *

Due to another bout of heavy snow, it took them another seven nights to reach the campsite. It was located in an indention between four large hills. The land was dotted by a few trees and high grass. There was a river about a kilometer away, partially hidden by thick brush. The snow had let up now that they were farther south, but a thin coat of it still dusted the ground. A couple of scouts had reported that the river had a thin layer of ice over it, but had broken it easily to get through to the water. The entire area made her nervous. If she looked directly to the south at night, she could see lights. They weren't very far from a city, and it worried her. Her nightmares got worse over their first few nights there. First, she dreamed Kankri tried to walk on the icy river and drowned. Then she dreamed he wandered into the city and was culled by a drone. Though they were now supposed to be in a 'safe spot', Porrim was more anxious than ever.

Kankri, however, was perfectly happy with their new home. Every night he got stronger, more vocal, and just a little bit taller. He enjoyed following Porrim around while she carried out her nightly duties. And while he often grew bored if she spent too much time on one task, he found other ways to amuse himself. The world was a big, new place for a recently pupated troll. Rocks, twigs, and leaves could keep him occupied for hours. Things that moved, such as bugs and small creatures, provided even more entertainment. But his favorite toy, by far, was the snow. It snowed more and more each night, which made it difficult to hunt and forage for food. For Kankri, however, it was the one thing that kept his attention all night.

His custodian watched him carefully at all times, haunted by nightmares and secret worries. But seeing him play made her relax. He built little trolls out of the snow, using rocks and twigs to makes their eyes and their horns. Kankri even gave them names.

"This one is Rufioh," he said, pointing to a snowman with two large sticks sticking out of the side of his head.

"Why does he have grass poking out of his back?" Porrim asked, smiling.

Kankri frowned and rolled his eyes, as though the answer were obvious. "Those are his wings."

She paused. "Why does he have wings?"

Her charge shrugged and offered no explanation. He pointed to the snow troll next to Rufioh. "She's Damara."

"Where are her horns?" Porrim asked, fearing he'd invented another mutant friend. Suddenly she paused. Why shouldn't his playmates be mutants? After all, he was surrounded by them. Mutants and criminals and runaway slaves. Those were his contemporaries, and all he'd ever known.

"Her horns are hard. They're curly," Kankri answered.

"Curly horns. I suppose those would be hard to replicate with twigs," Porrim said. Her little one nodded, a solemn look on his face. She couldn't help but smile. "Why don't you make one that looks like you? You won't need very big sticks to make your horns!"

"Mother!" Kankri said. She laughed, only to stop when her little one threw a handful of snow at her. She froze, and so did he.

"...Kankri," she said slowly. "Do you know what you've just done?"

He shook his head slowly, his eyes wide with terror.

"You have just initiated a snowball fight," Porrim said, grabbing a handful of snow and forming it into a ball. She threw it at Kankri, hitting him in the chest. He laughed and fell to the ground. Moments later he returned fire, throwing a snowball at her. It hit her shoulder. They exchanged vollies of snow, sometimes hitting each other but mostly missing. The fight was ended by Jupaza, who walked past and shouted at Porrim to get back to work if she wanted any food for the night. Both she and Kankri immediately became silent and still until she was gone. Then, once she had disappeared into the grass, they both started to laugh.

"She's cranky," Kankri said, grinning.

"Yes, she is," Porrim replied, rubbing his head. "But she's right. I have to get back to work. Why don't you play with your little snow friends some more?"

Kankri grinned and nodded, immediately going back to his task. He managed to make one more snow troll before they went back to camp. Its name was Porrim.


	4. the Incident

"Come on, Kankri!" Meenah shouted, running down the hallway. Her footsteps echoed through the grand, coral pink corridor. He grinned and raced after her. Servants smiled at them and bowed respectfully as they passed. But in the back of his mind he knew their respect was for Meenah, not him. She was the heiress after all.

They raced through the halls until they came to the front entrance. Together they waited, hand in hand, and watched the doors.

"How long do you think she'll stay this time?" Meenah asked, squeezing his hand.

"Maybe she'll stay till after my wriggling day," Kankri replied.

The doors opened, and the Empress walked in accompanied by her train of servants and guards. A smile spread across her face when she saw them. Slowly, Empress Feferi knelt down and outstretched her arms. Her two charges, now three sweeps old, ran into her embrace.

"Oh, look at you two! You've gotten so big!" Feferi exclaimed.

"How long are you staying this time?" Meenah asked, bouncing eagerly.

The Empress beamed at her. "Until you are ready to rule, Meenah. You're three sweeps old now, and it's time to begin your training."

"I'll never rule."

Kankri looked over at her, and suddenly Meenah was six sweeps old. And so was he. They were standing the same corridor that they had raced down as children. Now they were so much older.

"It's your responsibility, Meenah!" Kankri hissed. "Who is going to take your place?"

"You can have the throne for all I care!" Meenah snapped. She turned to walk away. Angrily, Kankri stormed after her. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. When he did, Meenah pressed the prongs of a trident against his chest. "Try it, nubs. I'm leaving. You ain't gonna stop that."

_Messing up everything she's messing up everything her fault all her fault_

He took a step back. "Fine. Go for all I care. You'd be an awful queen anyway."

When she was gone, he went to one of the windows and stared up at the moon. It hung bright and pink in the sky, surrounded by the stars. He was certain she would head for the moon. Most of the colonies there had been abandoned as their race expanded its reach into other colonies, and she could live there relatively unnoticed. Kankri sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair. When he looked back out the window, a meteor was hurtling towards him. He yelled and pressed his back against the wall-

"Kankri! Kankri, wake up!"

Kankri awoke and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Porrim was in the process of getting dressed.

"Come on, get ready; you have to get your job assignments for the night," she said. For a moment he simply stared at her in groggy confusion. Then he remembered the significance of that particular night. He was turning three sweeps old, and the Council had decided he was old enough to begin earning his keep. Snapping awake immediately, Kankri hurriedly began to get dressed.

"Don't pull your pants up that high, dear, it looks silly," Porrim said, walking over to help him. As she pulled his pants back down to an acceptable height, Kankri bounced excitedly on his heels.

"I had a sad dream last night," he said.

His mother made a small noise of interest, as she was busy fixing his shirt. The dreams were nothing new. Ever since Kankri could form full sentences, he'd talked excitedly about his 'dream friends'. It was beginning to trouble her. Everyone had presumed that Kankri would grow out of it, but he hadn't yet.

"It was sad because Meenah ran away," Kankri said.

"I'm sorry, dear," his custodian replied disinterestedly.

"It's because she didn't want to be empress when she was older. I was really mad at her," Kankri continued.

At the word 'empress' his mother froze. She met her little one's eyes, looking at him sternly. "What do you mean she didn't want to be empress, Kankri? Meenah isn't a fuchsia blood, is she?"

"Yes, she is! She's a sea-dweller. So is Cronus," Kankri said, mistaking her horror for interest. "But Meenah didn't want to rule so she ran away. And then there was this-"

Porrim sighed in exasperation and took him by the hand, leading him out of the tent. She'd find a way to put a stop to these little fantasies. Eventually. He was still young, after all. "You can tell me about it later, dear. You have a big night ahead of you."

They walked out of their tent hand-in-hand. As per usual, they were among the first to sit down at the center of camp for the nightly job assignments. Kankri was practically bursting with excitement. Ever since he was a grub, his mother was forced to work for two. Now he was finally old enough to earn his own food. He waited anxiously for the others to wake up and get ready. All of them already knew what their job assignments would be, of course. After someone joined the Tribe (an event that hadn't happened since he and his mother arrived), they were tested with all sorts of jobs. Once the Council found out what you were best at, you were continually assigned to those jobs. His mother was almost always in charge of repairing tents and making clothes. But Kankri was a complete unknown.

What would they give him first? Hunting? Weapon-making? Fishing? Foraging?

Slowly, the other members began to wake up and take their places. Once everyone was gathered, the typical assignments were given. They went through all forty-seven members of the Tribe, eventually reaching the end of the list. Kankri held his breath.

"As for Kankri..." Tashun said, looking up. "You're on water duty tonight."

"Crap," he mumbled, crossing his arms.

"Language," Porrim said, smiling slightly. She kissed the top of his head. "Look at it this way: at least you can't get yourself into any trouble."

Kankri huffed as breakfast rations were passed out. "I wanted to do _real_ work, Mother. I want to make a difference."

"I still think you're too young to be doing any work," Porrim said, taking a bit of bread and breaking it in half. "And water duty is very important, Kanny. Just because work goes unnoticed, doesn't mean it didn't make a difference."

He frowned as he bit into his half of the bread. "You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not. It's true," Porrim said with a smile. "The smallest deed can make a huge difference."

The trolls began to break into their groups, and went off to perform their tasks. Porrim tearfully kissed the top of Kankri's head and departed with her group. It seemed like it was only yesterday when he was just a sweep old and always at her heels. Now he was three sweeps, and working for his own food. Where had all of that time gone?

Water duty was divided between five trolls that night, the oldest of which gave Kankri a long drawn out lecture of how to perform this particular job. (As though Kankri hadn't watched his mother do it before.) They each picked up a large clay hug and headed for the river, walking just behind the fishing group. Kankri struggled to keep up with the adults; the jug was almost as large as he was, and it was difficult to see where he was going.

When they reached the river, they all filled their clay pots and began the walk back to camp. Halfway there, Kankri dropped his jug. Water spilled all over him and the ground, and he was forced to go back to refill it.

By the time he'd made it back to the river, the fishing group had spread out along its banks. Upstream he could see a cluster of poles spaced a couple of meters apart. Downstream was Kiroph, who preferred to fish with his trident. He was standing waist-deep in the middle of the river, his weapon held high in the air. Kankri knelt beside the bank and watched him for a moment. Kiroph had always intimidated him slightly. He was three times his size and always carried his trident in one hand. When he was fishing, he was frozen like a statue. Kankri found himself holding his breath as he watched him.

Suddenly Kiroph lunged, plunging his trident into the water. Moments later, he swore and retracted it. "Missed."

"Why do you fish like that?" Kankri asked, causing him to look up.

"Don't you have work to be doing?" Kiroph replied gruffly, poising the trident in the air again.

Kankri walked to the water's edge and dipped the pot into it. "Well, why do you?"

Kiroph shrugged. "I always have. Maybe it's because I'm too much of a sea-dweller for my own good. Maybe it's because I'm a mutant. We're always an odd bunch."

The word 'mutant' piqued Kankri's interest. He was vaguely aware that he was a mutant himself. But his condition was not typically visible, and rarely effected his life. Not only that, but he had been surrounded by mutants and oddballs all his life. In his mind, mutant was just another word for normal. He slowly lifted the jug out of the water. "What do you mean?"

"Mutants always have little quirks and kinks in their personalities," Kiroph said. "Just look at me."

He plunged the trident back into the water, this time having success. When he pulled it back out of the water, there was a fish flopping on the end of the middle prong. He grinned. "First catch of the day!"

Kankri's eyes went wide. He was vaguely aware of the clay pot slipping from his grasp. Then, all at once, everything changed. He was no longer standing by the river. He was in a completely different place entirely, where puddles of candy red blood littered the ground and the trees were made of white bones. Meenah was standing in front of him, pointing her trident at him. She was smirking triumphantly. In his hand was a sickle, but it felt strange and bulky in his hand.

He looked down. The prongs of her trident were embedded in his stomach.

His mind was completely blank. It was as though his eyes couldn't process what they were seeing. He looked from the trident, to her, to the trident. A drop of blood ran down his abdomen.

"Meenah-" he said.

She wrenched the trident back with a sudden jerk, tearing muscle and organ and tissue on its way out. White hot pain momentarily blinded him. The sickle fell from his hand. He went down on his knees. Suddenly his mind seemed to spring back into action. A million emotions ran through him. Betrayal, agony, anger, disbelief. He put his hand over the wound. When he pulled it away, his entire palm was covered with candy red blood.

_Her fault all her fault everything why did she do this we grew up together does she hate me this much I hate her I hate her so much all her fault why does she mess everything up all her fault _

"Why?" he gasped, staring up at her.

"It's a game, nubs," she said. With that, she hurried off.

The pain was so intense. Tears were in his eyes. He gritted his teeth. Porrim was somewhere on his planet. She was here. He just had to find her. Find her and get her to kiss him. But he'd have to die first.

_I'm going to die._

He tried to stand, but couldn't. He began to crawl.

_Going to die._

He was losing too much blood. His head felt light, and his arms and legs suddenly seemed ten times heavier.

_Don't wanna die..._

He collapsed.

_All her fault don't want to die don't want to die help me someone help me don't want to die don't want to die don't want to die_

The world went dark as someone called his name.

"Kankri? Kankri, open your eyes! Kankri!"

When Kankri awoke, he was back on the riverbed. He gasped and sat up, his hands pressing against his stomach. There was no wound. No blood. Yet he couldn't stop trembling. Kankri had just experienced death. He was sure of it. He'd felt life slipping away from him, slipping through his fingers like water. He still felt the pain, the fear, the anger. So angry. So, so angry...

It was only then did he realize he was completely surrounded by people. Kiroph was kneeling beside him, his trident laying forgotten beside the water. His mother was on his opposite side. Trolls from the fishing group and water duty group had gathered around, trying to figure out what was wrong. Kankri looked around at their concerned faces and felt disoriented. For a moment he couldn't remember who they were or where he was. Where was Meenah? Why was he no longer on LOBAT?

Then, slowly, he began to remember. This was his Tribe. He was at the river near one of their camps.

"Kankri, are you alright?" Porrim asked, setting a hand on his cheek. "Look at me, sweetie, tell me what happened."

"I- I don't know." He felt as though he were going to throw up. His head was suddenly killing him, and his hands still wouldn't stop shaking. "I...I don't feel well."

"Maybe he's getting sick," Kiroph suggested.

His mother nodded in agreement. "Come on, Kanny. I'm taking you back to camp. I think you need to rest."

He didn't trust himself to open his mouth and reply, for fear of getting sick all over everyone who was too close. So Kankri just nodded. His mother picked him up and he wrapped his arms around her neck. When they reached the camp, he finally threw up outside their tent.

* * *

Everyone reached the general consensus that Kankri was sick. If he felt better the next night, he could go back to work. If not, he would have to stay in his tent and rest. His mother was partly convinced that the work had been too much for him. She stayed by his side constantly, asking if he needed anything. At dinner, she encouraged him to eat despite his lack of appetite.

Kankri didn't tell them about what he had seen.

He had dreamed about Meenah before, along with the rest of his 'dream friends'. But he'd never had a dream that involved anything like_ that_. Nor had he ever had a dream while he was awake. If it could even be called a dream. It felt like...a memory, almost. But that was impossible. Meenah was just a dream friend. She didn't actually exist.

"It's not real," he whispered to himself. "It's not real."

"What's not real?" Porrim asked, glancing over. She was busy sewing a new cloak for him, as second autumn was fast approaching.

"Nothing Mother," he said, rolling on to his side. Kankri resolved to just forget what had happened. He was sure it was just a one-time incident. It wouldn't happen again.

At least, he hoped it wouldn't.


	5. Escaping the Handmaid

Merry Christmas everyone! (and happy Hanukkah and Kwanza too!)

* * *

The visions did not stop coming.

At first, they were sporadic. He would go for several weeks without any sort of incident. Just when he began to think that they might have stopped for good, something would trigger another one out of nowhere. Almost everyone in the Tribe was aware of his 'condition', and most had seen an attack in person. Though he never allowed them to know the full extent of it. All they knew was that, at certain times, Kankri would freeze and stop whatever he was doing, and then faint. They did not know that these episodes were always accompanied by visions.

Everyone presumed his mysterious condition was linked to his unusual blood color, and was written off as a genetic anomaly. For his own safety he was relegated to less dangerous tasks, such as foraging and weaving. No one wanted him having a fainting spell in the middle of a hunt or when he was out scouting. It was a crushing disappointment for Kankri, but he understood why the decision had been made.

Soon the visions became another part of his life. Every few nights or so, something would set it off. There seemed to be hundreds of triggers, and there was no way to avoid them all. The visions always seemed somehow related to whatever set it off. Seeing Kennoe's threshecutioner sickle on her hip might set off a vision in which he was attacking a monster with a similar weapon. Hearing his mother's name said aloud could set off a vision of a conversation between he and his dream friend Porrim. It never ended, and the visions were unavoidable. Once it had been triggered, there was no going back. After he woke up he would always be left with a head-splitting migraine, and sometimes he would throw up.

He struggled to discern the meaning of the visions. There were times he considered telling his mother about them, but she was worried enough as it was. He didn't want to give her another reason to be concerned.

So Kankri kept silent, and attempted to solve the mystery on his own.

One night, about half a sweep after his first vision, he had another particularly gruesome one. While at their third camp of the sweep, he, Porrim, and Nilcir went to a small cliff. It was largely barren of plant life, but a number of hardy bushes that managed to take root and flourish. These bushes produced sweet yellow berries, and could be either eaten or used for medicinal purposes.

"Be careful Kanny," Porrim warned, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "Don't get too close to the edge. You could slip."

Kankri nodded, only half-hearing her. He plucked the berries off the bushes, tossing them into his basket. He was attempting to lose himself in the work so that he could forget about how hungry he was. The hunting parties had been coming up empty-handed recently, so food rations had taken a hit. Kankri was tempted to sneak a few berries into his pocket, but he knew that doing so could result in punishment. Anyone who stole food from the rest of the Tribe could be whipped for doing so.

"Kanny!" Porrim yelled suddenly. She grabbed his arm and yanked him back. It was only then did he realize how close he had been to the edge. A few berries fell out of his basket and tumbled down, falling and falling and falling...

_No, not now_, he thought. _Not now-_

His surroundings changed. He was in some sort of strange land, surrounded by monsters. The sky was dark, and they stood on the edge of a cliff. Two of his dream friends were with him: Porrim and Aranea.

"They just keep coming!" he snarled, slashing at one of the monsters with his sickle. The monsters were separating them, cutting them off from each other so they'd be more vulnerable. When did they start getting so smart? Kankri heard the sound of Porrim revving her chainsaw. Black imp blood and grist flew threw the air. She was holding her own, but she kept giving ground.

She was heading for the edge.

"Porrim, watch-!" Kankri shouted. He was cut off as an imp bit into his arm. Kankri snarled and hacked it off, leaving only small chunks of grist in its place. When he looked back at Porrim, she took a step too far back and fell.

"NO!" Aranea and Kankri screamed in unison. They both watched her fall. She slammed into the ground with a loud _WHAM_. The sound made his gut twist.

The vision ended there. He awoke lying a little ways away from the cliff with his head in his mother's lap. As per usual, he had a splitting headache.

"Are you alright, little one?" his mother asked, running her hands through his hair.

He nodded, slowly sitting up. "I'm...I'm ok."

"Can you work?" Nilcir asked. She was still working. These fainting episodes were nothing new. And while she was concerned, it was nothing to stop work over. They had forty-seven hungry mouths to feed.

Kankri nodded slowly. He felt as though he were going to be sick, but he didn't want to make the trip back to the camp. So he picked up his basket (which had spilled all of its contents when he fainted) and went back to work. His mother and Nilcir took care to keep him away from the edge, just in case he fainted again. (Kankri knew he wouldn't; he hadn't ever had two visions on the same night before.)

His migraine and the vision helped clear his aching stomach, at least. The golden berries that had seemed so tempting before were now sickening to look at. He picked them mechanically and did his best not to glance down into his basket. The sight of all of them at once might send him over the edge and make him sick. His head was pounding, and every sound was like a knife in his temple. The other gatherers did their best to be quiet for his sake; they knew how awful his headaches could get after a fainting spell.

When they were halfway done, it began to rain.

It was both a blessing and a curse. The rain was refreshingly cool on his face and arms. But the sound of millions of droplets hitting leaves and stone and soil sounded like a constant roar. His head continued to throb, and he had to sit down to keep from throwing up.

Nilcir cast him a sympathetic look as he sat. Reaching into her pack, she tossed him a piece of fruit.

"I was saving it for lunch," she said. "But you need to eat. You look white."

Kankri looked at the fruit and felt his gut twist in protest. But food was a precious gift. He couldn't turn it down. Steeling himself, he bit into the fruit. It made a painfully loud crunching sound as his teeth dug into it. The juices, which were normally crisp and sweet, tasted like acid. The fruit itself felt like a chunk of wax sitting on his tongue. He forced himself to chew and swallow. A moment later he could feel the bile rising up in his throat, and he swallowed again to keep from getting sick.

"Don't enjoy it too much now," Nilcir said with a small smile. "Just eat as much as you can. I'll finish off what you don't eat."

He attempted to smile in return. While he waited for the pain to pass, he watched Nilcir and his mother work. The more it rained, the more slippery the cliff became. Nilcir slipped while going to retrieve another basket, almost spilling her full one. His mother slipped twice, as she was more preoccupied with watching Kankri than with her surroundings.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to camp, dear?" she kept asking.

Every time she spoke, it felt as though she'd thrown a rock at his head. Every single time she asked, he would cringe and nod. "Yes, Mother, I just need to sit."

He was becoming more and more irritated with his mother. His replies became very curt and irritated. At one point he shouted, "I'M _FINE_!" The hurt look on his mother's face felt even worse than the pain in his temple. Shortly afterwards, he got back to his feet and went back to work. The silence between the three was tense. Kankri had never shouted at his mother before. Or at anyone, really.

_She was just worried,_ Kankri thought, mentally chastising himself. _What did I have to go and yell at her for_?

He glanced over at Porrim, wondering if she still had that awful sad look on her face. But when he looked at her, his entire body went cold.

Porrim was standing right next to the edge of the cliff.

"Mother!" he shouted. She looked up immediately. "Mother, I-"

His mother took two steps toward him, then slipped. She fell.

"NO!" he screamed, running to the edge. He slipped on the stony ground and almost went over the edge himself. But Nilcir reached out and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, saving his life. He watched his mother hit the ground below. A loud _WHAM_ echoed through the air. Kankri screamed so loud he thought his head was going to split in half. Nilcir pulled him away from the edge and enveloped him in a tight hug. Or perhaps she was just trying to keep him from staring at his mother's broken form lying far below them.

"Shhh, little one, shhh..." she said, attempting to soothe him the way Porrim had always done.

Moments later, the rest of the foraging group ran up.

"What happened?" one of them asked. "We heard a scream."

"Porrim slipped and went over the edge," Nilcir told them. She lifted Kankri off the ground and handed him to one of the other trolls. Candy red tears were gathering in his eyes, and his face was frozen in a look of pure horror. "Take him back to camp."

* * *

Kankri couldn't stop crying. His head was still killing him, but none of that mattered now. His mother was gone. Dead. What was he going to do without her? Sure, he still had the rest of the Tribe. But none of them could take her place. Mother was one of a kind. She was beautiful and wise and everything he aspired to be. Kankri would be completely lost without her. All he could manage to do was lay in their tent and cry into one of her cloaks. It smelled like her still, and that offered him a bit of solace.

Someone brought him dinner, but he didn't touch it. He didn't want to eat now or ever again. He wanted to die and be with Mother. If they tried to make him eat, he'd run to the cliff and jump over the edge.

The Tribe wanted to send a group out to recover Porrim's body. They couldn't leave her remains behind. If someone found them, it would seem odd. And that could pose a risk to the rest of the the Tribe. Getting her remains wouldn't be easy, however, and daylight was approaching fast. It was decided that it would have to be done the next night. They also decided to allow Kankri to be by himself for a little while; he needed time to cope with the death of his custodian.

The next night, after the group had departed to retrieve Porrim's remains, Kankri was visited by Lacene. She was the only jade blood in the Tribe now that his mother was gone. Perhaps the Council had decided she would be his replacement custodian. She and his mother were very similar in many respects. They were both very beautiful and dignified. They both liked the sunlight. They had both fled the underground caverns for one reason or another. But an aura of mystery and danger followed Lacene wherever she went, and Kankri had always feared her. It didn't help that her skin would glow whenever she was angry, which only added to her strangeness.

"Hello, Kankri," she said, kneeling down. "I see you have not eaten your breakfast. Or your dinner, for that matter."

Kankri didn't respond. He buried his face in his mother's cloak, allowing her comforting scent to wash over him.

"You know rations are tight right now, Kankri. You should not waste food," Lacene said. Her words were chiding, but her tone was gentle. "You need to eat."

He shook his head. "I'm not eating ever again."

"Starving yourself will do you no good," Lacene sighed. "I know you are upset about Porrim. But I am certain everything will work itself out."

Kankri glared at her. "She's dead! How is that going to work itself out?!"

She smiled faintly. "You would be surprised."

"Get out!" he hissed. "I don't want to talk to you! I don't want to talk anyone! I just want to lay in here until I die!"

Lacene sighed again, but did not protest. She got up to leave the tent. But, as she stepped out, she paused and looked back. "Kankri, have you ever heard the saying 'the Handmaid always leaves her work behind'?"

"No," he said, frowning.

"It means that Death does not take its victims bodies when it takes their breath," Lacene said. "Think on that."

With that, she walked out.

* * *

The search party returned empty-handed. They reported that they had gone to the exact place where Porrim had fallen, led by Nilcir. But when they got there, no body could be found. After searching high and low, they'd decided that her remains had been consumed by some huge beast. With that business settled for them, there was only one thing left to attend to. And that was Kankri. A gathering was called to discuss what would be done with him. He was forced to attend, though he refused to eat the food they tried to make him eat.

"As all of you know," Jupaza said, speaking up first, "Porrim is gone. And she left behind a rather big problem for the rest of us."

"Wow, Jupaza, you're so compassionate," Kennoe growled. "The wriggler isn't a problem, he's one of us."

"Even so," Jupaza snapped, "someone has to watch after him. That person will become his new custodian, and they will be completely responsible for him."

"I don't want a new custodian!" Kankri snarled. "I don't want anyone!"

Everyone acted as though they had not heard him, though a handful of trolls cast him sympathetic looks. Sanuor spoke up, looking at Kankri with pity. "I could watch after him."

"Or me," Kennoe said.

Kankri loved both Kennoe and Sanuor. Sanuor always had good stories to tell, and he had never been anything but nice to him. Kennoe, meanwhile, was crazy, fun, and always up for anything. But in that moment he hated both of them. Did they think they could take his mother's place?

"I don't want either of you!" he growled.

Before anyone could stop him, Kankri jumped up and ran back to his tent. He fell down on to his sleeping pile and pulled his mother's cloak over his head. Thankfully, no one attempted to come after him. They allowed him to stay in his tent and cry himself out in peace. No one even attempted to bring him more food. Perhaps they'd decided to stop wasting rations on him.

All he could think about was his Mother. How he'd snapped at her before she fell. How she looked so broken and small lying at the foot of the cliff. How he couldn't even kiss her goodbye because some giant monster slithered out during the day and snatched her away. Kankri hoped the Handmaid came for him too. That way he could see his Mother again and tell her how sorry he was. He loved her so much, and he couldn't live without her.

Kankri cried himself to sleep for the second night in a row. He was exhausted, and slept without dreaming.

A soft touch on his cheek woke him up. His eyes fluttered open, only to see his mother kneeling beside him.

"Mother..." he whispered.

She smiled. It was really, truly her. Her clothes were dirty and her skin was glowing like the sun. But none of that mattered. What mattered was that she was here. Kankri grinned and threw his arms around her neck. Porrim wrapped her arms around him tightly and set her chin on the top of his head.

"Did the Handmaid bring you to say goodbye?" he whispered into her shoulder.

"No, sweetie," she said. "The Handmaid didn't get to take me this time."

Kankri grinned and hugged her tighter. "I love you. I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Porrim asked, running her hand through his hair.

"I yelled at you," he said. "And then you fell and I thought you were gone forever and I never said sorry and I'm really really really sorry and I love you so much-"

The tears were coming to his eyes again. His mother kissed his forehead and shushed him gently. "Kanny, sweetie, it's alright. I'll always come back to you. Always."

Kankri buried his face in her neck. "How about you just never ever leave again. Ever."

His mother smiled. "I promise."

"You're all glowy," Kankri said, as if he were noticing for the first time. "Why are you all glowy?"

"I'm not sure," Porrim admitted, looking at her hand. "But I think I may be a rainbow drinker like Lacene."

"What's a rainbow drinker?" Kankri asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "It means that I glow like a star and I can drink troll blood if I want. They're very rare and a lot of people think they're dangerous. But I don't want you to be afraid of me, alright?"

"You can drink my blood if you want," Kankri said. Fearing his Mother hadn't even crossed his mind. If she could love a mutantblood, then he could love a rainbow drinker. "Though I don't know if I'd taste good."

Porrim chuckled, happy her charge hadn't shied away from her. "I bet you'd taste just like candy."

Suddenly, Kankri felt his stomach growl. "...Mother?"

"Hm?" His mother raised her eyebrows.

"I'm really hungry," Kankri said.

She smiled slightly and kissed his forehead. "I'll let you have some of my food tomorrow. I don't think I'll be needing it."


	6. Bravery

Porrim's return came as a surprise to everyone but Lacene, who had suspected from the start that she was a rainbow drinker in the making. But her revival was quickly forgotten. The rationing crisis had only worsened. The area was practically barren in terms of game, and the foraging parties had just about exhausted all other forms of food. They had food preserved and stored away for such occasions, but it wouldn't last long. The Council called together a meeting, and it was decided that they had reached a state of emergency.

In states of emergency, the Tribe had only one option: send a group to the closest city to get supplies.

There was a lot of talk and debate as to how many people should go. Sending a small group lessened the chances of anyone being caught, but the supplies they came back with would be limited. Buying large quantities of anything could attract unwanted attention. Sending a large group greatly increased their chances of intake, but it came with its own dangers. It was decided to send a group of ten to the nearest city. Only trolls with no visible mutations could go, which ruled out Porrim. (Lacene still had not managed to teach her how to turn off her rainbow drinker light.)

Jupaza suggested that Kankri accompany them, as he needed to prove himself and there was nothing visually wrong with him. Plus it was easier for a wriggler to go unnoticed. This idea was met with vehement argument from Porrim's end of the discussion, and she forbade Kankri from setting foot outside their camp.

The group of ten was eventually decided, and they prepared to set off.

Kankri watched them prepare to leave. He only just barely understood the situation. His friends were marching off into some dangerous place in a desperate attempt to save the rest of their people. But what he didn't understand was why it was so dangerous.

"Mother?" he said, looking up at her. "Where are they going?"

"Pavbem," Porrim replied. "It is the city closest to this camp."

"What's so dangerous about it?" he asked. The group of ten was in the process of assembling all the needed supplies. They each had a worn leather pack and some sort of weapon in their hand. "Why don't we ever go there?"

Porrim frowned. All Kankri had ever known was the Tribe. He had grown up among mutants, convicts, and felons of many different colors and hues. To him, it was normal. She wasn't sure if he would understand any explanation she would give. "Kanny, regular trolls don't live like we do. They live in hives, and always stay in one place."

"I know that," Kankri said, surprising her. "I dreamed about that. And there's big hivestems in the cities where a bunch of trolls live together at once. Mituna lived in one. But why is it dangerous?"

She stared at her charge in complete shock. Did his fantasies really tell him all that...? No, no that was impossible. Kennoe probably told him. Shaking off her surprise, Porrim continued. "Well, there are drones. They're giant robots that go around killing people if they look sick, or hurt, or weak. There's threshecutioners, and they keep the peace in big cities like Pavbem. They get all of their orders from the High Thresher, who takes their orders directly from the Empress. And there's subjuggalators. They're unpredictable, because they just do what they think is funny."

Kankri's eyes were wide with horror. "People kill each other...just because?"

"I...yes," Porrim said with a sigh. "And if you're low on the hemospectrum, you are even more of a target."

"What's the hemospectrum?" Kankri asked, furrowing his brow. "My dream friends mention it all the time but they never say what it is, or why it's so important."

His mother didn't seem to know how to answer him. She explained it the best she could, and told him how it was arranged. Porrim even went through each caste and detailed some of the jobs they might be assigned in order to give Kankri a better idea of what each blood color did. But at the end of her long explanation, he only looked more confused.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Porrim frowned.

"Where am I on the hemospectrum?" Kankri stared up at her, and his mother felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. Her little one knew that he was a mutant, but he'd never truly understood what that meant. He didn't realize just how alone and out-of-place he was.

"You...erm. Let's go say goodbye to everyone, alright?" Porrim suggested, grabbing his hand. They approached the group just as Kennoe was handing out berries to everyone. The sight of them made Kankri's stomach growl. All he'd eaten that night was an uncooked root.

Kennoe looked around at the others very seriously. "You all know what to do with these if you get caught."

The others nodded solemnly, tucking the berries away for safe-keeping.

"Can I have some?" Kankri asked. His hunger was getting the best of him. The berries were bright red, and looked very plump and juicy.

Kennoe looked down and quickly tucked her share away. "Nah, these are for adventurers only. But don't worry. I'll bring you back something even better. Ever had cake before, nubs? It's the best thing on Alternia. And I'm gonna bring you back one that's just for you."

He grinned. "Promise?"

"Promise." She smirked and rubbed his head.

Kankri had no idea what cake was or what it would taste like, but he was excited. Then his eyes fell on the sickles strapped to Kennoe's belt. Before, they'd triggered multiple visions. But now they just left him feeling hollow inside. He remembered everything that his mother had said about why the city was dangerous, though much of it didn't make sense to him. She'd mentioned threshecutioners as one of the many dangers; Kankri had heard that word before. Kennoe once told him she used to be one. If she was one of them, how could they possibly be bad?

"You eying my sickles, nubs?" Kennoe asked, arching an eyebrow. "They're pretty cool, huh?"

He shrugged. In some of his visions, he'd been holding a sickle. But it always felt wrong. Like it was somehow unnatural for him to hold a weapon.

Suddenly, Kennoe pulled one of her sickles off her belt and handed it to him. "Here; it's yours. You need a weapon anyway."

Kankri looked up at his mother, but she didn't say anything. Perhaps she agreed with Kennoe for once. He held the sickle up and looked at it in the moonlight. The blade was made from a black metal, and Kennoe's symbol had been inscribed on the teal-colored handle. The weapon seemed to smile cruelly at him. He realized at once that he didn't want this gift, but refusing it might hurt Kennoe's feelings. And he still felt bad about snapping at her when his mother died. So he just smiled and thanked her.

"No problem," Kennoe said, smirking. "You'll be a real killer when you're older."

The comment was meant to encourage him. But Kankri only felt sick. "Ok."

"Are we ready?" Persei, one of the ten chosen to head into the city, asked.

Kennoe nodded. "Let's move out!"

The Tribe watched as they disappeared down the path. If they did not return in seven nights, the Tribe was to pack up and head to their next camp. It was too early in the sweep to move, but if the entire group was compromised it was their only hope of survival.

* * *

Five nights after the ten departed, six of them came back. They'd managed to get a decent amount of food, and the Tribe ate a bit better than they had before. Kankri watched eagerly as the group unloaded their precious treasures of food. But Kennoe was not among them.

"Where is Kennoe?" he asked Jupaza, as she had been one of the six that returned.

Jupaza frowned. "I don't know. We had to split up before we entered the city. We couldn't be seen together. It would have attracted too much attention. Now run along- I have work to do."

He did as he was told, mostly because Jupaza scared him a bit. The next night he watched the path eagerly. One more troll returned, but Kennoe was nowhere to be found. It began to dawn on Kankri that she and the two other missing trolls might not be coming back. The Council was murmuring about finding a replacement for her. Kankri took to sitting near the path and watching, the sickle she gave him strapped to his hip.

Two nights later, Kennoe and one of the missing trolls returned. Kankri was the first to spot them coming up the path. He noticed what looked like a large, jerking shadow coming towards him. His first thought was that it was some sort of monster. He started to yell for his mother, then paused and grabbed his sickle. Ever since Kennoe gave him the weapon, his mother had encouraged him to practice with it and rely on it. She wanted him to be able to defend himself. Kankri held the sickle tightly in his hand, the fear building with each step the shadow took.

As it got closer, Kankri realized it wasn't a monster at all. It was Kennoe and the troll Persei. They were leaning on each other for support. Kennoe was limping, and teal blood was pouring from a wound in her arm. Persei looked no better. She was bleeding all over, and seemed ready to drop. Both of them were half-blind with bubbly-looking welts on their arms, face, and necks. In their desperation to reach the camp, they had traveled during the day. It saved them time, but left their vision horribly marred and gave them both awful cases of sun poisoning.

"THEY'RE BACK!" Kankri shouted over his shoulder at the camp, then ran to help. The injuries were for more gruesome up close. At first he'd thought Kennoe had a broken leg. But now he saw that one of her knees looked...crushed.

"Hey, nubs," Kennoe said, smiling. "I'd know that voice anywhere..."

"What happened?" Kankri asked, attempting to help them into the camp. But before Kennoe could answer, she collapsed. Persei went down with her. Kankri screamed for help, and a group of adult trolls came running.

They carried the two back into camp. Despite their injuries, both of them had managed to come back with packs full of food. Kankri was tasked to unload them while the others helped Kennoe and Persei to their tents. He was happy to have some sort of distraction. Persei's pack was full of different cuts of meat and some foods in metal cynlinders that he'd never seen before. Kennoe's pack was similarly filled, aside from one item. It was carefully placed at the top in a strange white box. Curious, Kankri opened it.

It was some sort of food in the shape of a circle. It was covered in something dark brown. Kankri dipped his finger in it and licked it. It tasted sweet, warm, and rich. He smiled a little.

Kennoe hadn't forgotten his cake.

* * *

When the two trolls regained consciousness, they explained what had happened. A group of threshecutioners had recognized Kennoe as a criminal and suspected feral. They followed her and watched her meet up with Persei outside the city gates. They attacked them. Together they managed to fight them off, but two of their attackers escaped and went back to the city. Certain that they had gone back for reinforcements and intended to track the two down, the Council made the decisions to pick up the camp and move the next night.

Sadly, they wouldn't get the chance.

Kankri awoke just after sunset. He stared around at the tent groggily, trying to figure out why he had woken up. His mother was crouching near the entrance, her face tense. She was listening to something. Slowly, Kankri crawled over and sat beside her. Something – or someone – was outside.

After a moment, he heard it too.

Rustling in the forest. Leaves being crunched, branches moving, something that sounded like water splashing on the ground. Kankri knew immediately it wasn't someone from within the Tribe. Everyone knew how to travel quickly and silently through the forest. It was one of the first things Kankri had ever learned.

There was a voice, but he couldn't make out the words. He looked to his mother. Ever since her transformation, her hearing had been sharpened.

"What did they say?" he whispered.

She didn't answer. After a few moments of silence she said, "Get ready to run."

Kankri grabbed his sickle and strapped it to his hip. It was supposed to make him feel safer, but instead he only felt more anxious.

A rough, unfamiliar voice shouted, "SMOKE 'EM OUT!"

Porrim grabbed Kankri's hand and pulled him out of the tent. Others had been awakened by the cry and were emerging, confused and holding weapons. Kankri looked around for the loud strangers. But in a few moments all he could see nothing but a wall of fire all around the camp. It seemed to spring up out of nowhere, immediately trapping them.

"Oil!" Porrim hissed, holding Kankri closed. "They were putting down oil..."

The Tribe was in a frenzy. They went for the jugs of water and began to throw them on the flames, trying to make an opening. But the water had no effect on the fire at all. The fire began to spread inward, engulfing tents and baskets and anything else it could reach. A tree near the center of camp began to burn. All around him was nothing but fire and chaos. His mother was pulling him through the camp, attempting to find some way of escaping.

"Mother, I'm scared!" he shouted, gripping her hand tightly. The smoke was choking the air and making it difficult to breathe. When he looked up, the stars and moons were hidden in a black haze.

"I know, sweetie, I know," she said. Porrim knelt down and set her hands on his shoulders. "But I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?"

Kankri nodded, though he wasn't sure. "I'll be brave."

The tribe was in a frenzy. Some of them were taking their chances and leaping through the flames in an attempt to escape. Some were climbing trees that weren't yet burning and attempting to leap over the wall of fire that way, risking breaking their legs in the process. And then there was the added danger of the threshecutioners, who had most assuredly tracked them down and set the fire. The food that they had risked everything for was burning in the storage tent. Kankri thought of his cake sitting in their tent. He'd had one slice of it before he fell asleep, and he wondered if it was the last thing he'd ever eat.

Suddenly, he remembered Kennoe.

Her leg had been injured when she returned, and she hadn't been able to walk well. How would she escape? She wouldn't. Not without help.

Kankri broke away from his mother's grasp and began to run towards Kennoe's tent.

"KANKRI!" Porrim yelled. "COME BACK!"

The smoke was everywhere. He could barely see anything. Trolls became nothing but dark silhouettes. Kankri had to cover his nose and mouth with his shirt, otherwise he couldn't breathe. His eyes stung and the heat was intense. When he finally stumbled up to Kennoe's tent, it was nothing but a collapsed pile of kindling. He prayed that she wasn't inside when it fell.

He turned back to find his mother. Kankri was sure that he would be able to see her light through the smoke, but instead he saw only darkness and red flame.

"MOTHER!" he yelled. "MOTHER!"

No answer. All he could hear was the crackling of the fire and distant yelling. The flames were getting closer, and threatened to engulf the entirety of the camp. He had to find a way out, and quickly. Or else the smoke and fire would overcome him. Kankri ran blindly through the smoke, trying to find some way of escape. But the fire seemed to be everywhere. No matter where he turned, it was there.

_The river, _he thought. _I'll be safe at the river. _

But getting there would be a trial in itself. He went towards the direction he thought was east. As expected, he was met with a wall of fire much taller than himself. There was no way to go over it or around it. Kankri would be forced to jump through it. He backed away to give himself a running start, but stopped short of jumping.

"Be brave," he murmured as he backed away again. "I have to be brave..."

Kankri ran at the wall of fire, covering his face with his arm. He jumped through. The heat was intense, but was gone in a split second. When he was through, he was forced to yank off his cloak. It had received the worst of the flames, and was still burning. His shirt sleeve was on fire as well, but he managed to beat it out. The pain in his arm told him that it had left a burn. That was a problem for later. Aside from that and some slight singing of the hair, he was unharmed.

He wasn't safe yet, however.

The fire was blazing through the forest uncontrollably. The path was still relatively clear, but he had to get to the river. And quickly. Kankri sprinted down the path, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve. There was no sign of anyone in the Tribe. He kept his eyes peeled for the threshecutioners who set the fire, but it was difficult to see through the smoke. Perhaps they had already gone to hunt down what remained of his Tribe. They wouldn't get Mother, though. They wouldn't be able to catch her. Kankri was sure of it.

He kept running. The fire was moving quickly, faster than he could manage. But if he could survive until he reached the river...once he hit the river, he'd be safe.

It came into view after fifteen minutes of solid sprinting. His legs were about to give in, and his breathing was labored. But the sight of sweet, life giving water was enough to give him one final burst of energy. Kankri threw himself into the water with a loud splash. After running through the heat and smoke and ash, the water felt like heaven. It was cool and clear. He splashed his face and head, cleaning the ash off his skin.

"Freeze."

The voice came from in front of him. He slowly looked across to the other side of the river. A threshecutioner was standing there. In the red light of the fire, Kankri could see that his eyes were as blue as the river itself.

"Come here," he said.

Kankri slowly got to his feet. He could run, but he was exhausted from running. The threshecutioner obviously wasn't. So, slowly, he walked through the water and went towards him. The troll was tall, with shaggy black hair and horns that sloped back over the top of his head. He was in a threshecutioner uniform. Or, Kankri assumed that was what it was. It was a cleanly pressed black shirt and black pants. The buttons on the shirt were gold, and he had an assortment of pins on his left breast. One of them was a fuchsia symbol. One was a silver medal that showed a hand gripping a sickle.

"What does that medal mean?" Kankri asked when he reached the opposite bank. He knew that he was in grave danger. This troll was probably going to kill him. Yet he felt the need to ask. It might be one of the last things he ever saw; he might as well know what it meant.

The threshecutioner looked at the medal in question. He frowned, but answered. "It means I was the second in my class at the Academy."

"Oh," Kankri said. He didn't know what the Academy was, but he didn't think he should ask. "Are you going to kill me?"

The threshecutioner didn't answer. He looked Kankri over, apparently troubled. "How old are you?"

"I'm three sweeps old," Kankri said. "...well. Three and a half."

"Three and a half," the troll repeated to himself. He put his fist to his mouth, apparently contemplating something. Then his eyes went to the sickle on Kankri's hip. "...do you even know how to use that thing, youngling?"

"Kinda..." Kankri said. He'd attempted to use it like his mother said, but it just didn't feel right.

The troll sighed heavily. "Get out of here."

Kankri froze. He stared at the threshecutioner in shock, not comprehending what he said. Was he really going to let him go?

"I said get out of here!" the threshecutioner snapped. "Go! Before I come to my senses!"

Kankri didn't need to be told again. He hurried down the bank as fast as his exhausted legs would carry him. After a while he moved away from the bank and began to look for a place to hide from the sun's rays. The sun would be coming up soon. He found sanctuary in the form of a cave. It was dark and seemed devoid of beasts, but Kankri was too exhausted to check. He stumbled in and curled up in one of the corners. It took time for sleep to find him. He kept thinking about the threshecutioner that had allowed him to escape. The troll had saved his life, and Kankri didn't even know his name. He thought of Kennoe again, and wondered if she had ever known him.

_If everyone out there is like them_, Kankri thought, _maybe the world isn't as dangerous as Mother said._

Shortly thereafter, Kankri's eyes slipped closed. He dreamed of an island palace and a storm of meteors.


	7. Meulin

Happy New Year!

* * *

When Kankri awoke, he found himself face-to-face with another troll. Startled, he screamed and scrambled away. The other troll screamed as well, moving to press her back against the opposite wall of the cave. Once she had moved back a bit, he was able to get a better look at her. She was around his age, perhaps a bit older. Her hair was long, tangled, and matted. She was very thin and her clothes were ragged. She was dirty from horns to toes. But even through the grime, Kankri recognized her face almost immediately.

"...Meulin?" he said.

The troll tilted her head to the side. There was no mistaking it. She was one of the trolls from his dreams and his visions. She was one of his dream friends.

"Is that your name?" he asked. "Meulin?"

She nodded slowly. "Who...who are you?"

"My name is Kankri." he said. Could it really be her? Had he been dreaming about real trolls this entire time? It was true that Porrim looked like a young version of his mother, and they shared the same name. But they couldn't actually be the same troll. Could they? Why had he been dreaming about actual people? Why did they show up in his visions? What connection did he have with them? How did he know them? There were a million questions rushing through his head, but he doubted this other little troll had any of the answers he needed.

Neither one of them seemed to know what to do. Meulin still had her back pressed against the wall. Her eyes were locked on him, waiting for him to make a move. Suddenly he realized that her eyes were mostly focused on the sickle at his hip. Slowly Kankri reached for it, then tossed it on the ground in between them. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

"Then I won't hurt you," Meulin replied. She seemed to relax slightly now that he was unarmed. "How did you know my name?"

"I had dreams about you," Kankri said. "And a bunch of other trolls. I didn't think...I don't know what to think now. It's so weird."

"You're weird." Meulin furrowed her brow in confusion. "And your dreams sound weird too."

He smiled slightly. Well, he couldn't deny that. Half of the time his dreams didn't make any sense. At least, they didn't seem to when he woke up. Every night when he opened his eyes, there were little thoughts still floating in his head. The remnants of his dreams. They were words like Skaia, Prospit, the Scratch. He'd always grasp for their meaning, but it always slipped through his fingers like water. Part of him felt like understanding his dreams would lead to some important discovery. And now that he knew that at least one of his dream friends was real, that idea wouldn't get out of his head.

"They're really weird," Kankri admitted. "I don't really understand them. But I think they're important. Somehow."

"Maybe they are. Or you could be crazy." Meulin's remark wasn't necessarily unkind. It was as though she were musing on two different theories. "Still. It's kinda cool that you knew my name. It's like you've got futuresight or something. Maybe that's what your dreams are- they're the future!"

He hadn't ever considered that before. He thought back to the vision he had just moments his mother died. Porrim had died in the same way his mother had. Of course, she had been fighting off imps when she fell. His mother had simply slipped.

But the similarities were uncanny. Had it been a vision of the future?

"Maybe. I guess they told me I'd eventually meet you," Kankri said, still uncertain.

"See? You can see the future." Meulin seemed pleased with herself at solving the mystery. She diverted her attention to his sickle, still lying in the cave floor. After glancing at him for permission, she picked it up to examine it. "Are you a teal blood?"

"Oh. No. I'm-" Kankri caught himself. He was no longer with the Tribe, where mutations were common. What would she say if she knew he was a mutant? Would she still like him? For now, at least, he'd play it safe. "I'm a red blood."

"How'd you get this?" Meulin asked, turning it over in her hand. "Did you kill someone for it?"

Kankri was horrified at the very idea. "What? No! It was a present."

"Who gave it to you?" Meulin asked, tilting her head to the side.

"My friend. Her name is Kennoe." Suddenly he felt as though he had been hit in the stomach. He'd almost forgotten...the fire. The threshecutioners. Had she gotten away? Had anyone? What about his mother? Was she out there, looking for him still? He was suddenly hyperaware of the burn on his arm. Last night, in all the confusion and the dash to get to safety, he'd forgotten about it. Now that the adrenaline had died down, he was beginning to feel the pain. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve. The burn started a little bit away from his wrist and stretched halfway down his forearm. It was nothing more than a shiny patch of slightly swollen skin. But it hurt.

"You got caught up in that fire," Meulin said quietly. "That looks like it hurts."

"A little," Kankri agreed.

Meulin crawled over to get a better look at it. "How'd you get it?"

He told her the story of how he escaped the fire. The story seemed to captivate her. Kankri went into detail about the wall of fire, at least three times taller than himself. He told her about the split second of extreme heat, and about the fire that clung to his sleeve and cloak. In fact, she seemed so entranced by the story that he found himself talking about the mad dash to the river. He described the burning trees and bushes, and the smoke that choked out the stars. Kankri stopped short of telling her about the threshecutioner. Somehow that felt like something he should not (or perhaps could not) share with her. Not yet. It seemed as though that act of mercy was a private moment between him and the nameless troll. Something kept him from speaking about it, though perhaps one day he would tell someone. Just how he might eventually tell someone about the visions that always accompanied his fainting spells. But not yet.

At the end of the story, Meulin grinned from ear to ear. "You're really good at telling stories. Do you have anymore?"

"Not off the top of my head," he said with an apologetic smile. "I don't have many interesting stories like that one. But I bet you do."

She stared at him with a look of mild confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You live in a cave and you look completely wild. That sounds like a story in itself. Why do you sleep out here? Don't you have a hive?" Kankri had learned long ago that most trolls his age didn't live the way he did. Their work consisted of caring for their lusus, and they bought their food at stores. They lived in one place all sweep round. He presumed that it was the norm, and never considered that he might not be the only exception to the rule.

A dark look passed over Meulin's face. She looked away. "I used to. But then my lusus died, and I had to hide. I didn't want to get culled."

So she'd lived out in the wild ever since. Kankri wondered when that had happened. Poor Meulin's clothes were nothing but rags. She didn't have any shoes, and her feet were dirty and cut up. Her hands were smeared with what he could only assume was beast blood. She had a slight and lithe build, but was much thinner than she should have been. How long had it been since she'd even seen a troll? Was he the first conversation she'd had in perigees?

Kankri couldn't imagine living out in the wild alone. Especially since Meulin had known the comforts and happiness of a hive. She was very brave, and very tough.

"What about you?" she asked suddenly. "Did your lusus and hive burn up in the fire? If they did, you can live in the cave with me. I won't mind."

"No. I never really had a hive," Kankri admitted. "Or a lusus. My custodian is a troll. We live with a bunch of other trolls out in the wild. We work together to keep everyone fed and move from place to place."

A shocked look came over his new friend's face. "You...you're a feral? A real, actual feral?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I guess so. But you kind of are, too. You just don't live with others like I do."

"Yeah, but you're a _real_ feral like the ones in the stories! They live in groups and hunt down trolls and lusii to eat. Do you do that?" Meulin seemed strangely excited by the idea of meeting a 'savage' troll. It actually sort of offended him. Did he really look like a cannibal?

"What? No!" Kankri replied indignantly. "We don't do any of that! We work, we eat, we sleep. And then we move. And then we do it all again."

She seemed a bit disappointed. "Oh...well. Where are they? The other ferals?"

That was a fantastic question. He had absolutely no idea. There had been so much panic and chaos, he didn't know where everyone had gone. They had simply scattered, which was perhaps the threshecutioner's plan all along. It was easy to pick off trolls when they were scared and desperate and alone.

"Our camp got burned last night," he said quietly. "And there were all of these threshecutioners...I don't know where everyone is. I got separated from the others."

Meulin frowned slightly. She pressed one of her fingers against her nose, as if it would somehow help her think. Finally she said, "Well, where would you go?"

He thought about it. His first instinct was to go back to the camp. But his better judgment made him balk at the idea. The fire most likely hadn't burned itself out yet. Even if it had, there wouldn't be much left. The tents would be piles of ash. The food would be gone. The water had been used in a desperate attempt to stop the fire. There may be a few spare tools or weapons that survived, but they wouldn't be worth the trip back. Plus it was possible the threshecutioners would be waiting for them, ready to finish off the ones who escaped.

No, no one would even think of heading back to the camp. Too much risk, not enough payoff. Plus the area was completely ruined. They hadn't been able to sustain themselves on that land to begin with. Now that it was burned to the ground, it would be impossible to live there. Not to mention unsafe. Threshecutioners knew exactly where the camp was, which meant they could never return there again.

"I'd go to our next camp of the sweep," Kankri said.

"That's probably where they'll be then!" Meulin smiled slightly. "Where is it?"

"Far from here," Kankri said quietly. He knew the way. For the most part. If he followed the river he would eventually find the place where they would cross and begin to head north. Then he could hopefully rely on his memory to get him there. "It'll take maybe...ten nights to get there."

Meulin nodded slowly. "That_ is_ a long way."

Suddenly, he had an idea. Meulin had been living all alone for who knew how long. She had no home, no custodian. It didn't seem right to leave her by herself in a half-burned wasteland.

"What if you come with me?" Kankri suggested.

"What do you mean?" She frowned slightly and tilted her head to one side.

Kankri got to his feet and grinned. "You can come with me to the camp, and then you can live with the Tribe. You can be a real feral."

Her eyes lit up like stars. She smiled from ear to ear. "Really? Would- would they let me?"

That he couldn't say for certain. His mother had once told him the story about their admittance to the Tribe. (Kankri couldn't remember it, as he'd only been a grub at the time.) It was a grueling process of debate, and if someone was turned down they weren't sent away. They were killed. But what would keep them from letting her in? "I'm sure they will."

With that, it was decided. Together they would set out towards the Tribe's camp that very night. Meulin had nothing to bring with her, save for a few crude weapons that she'd made from stone and wood. Kankri only had the clothes on his back and the sickle at his hip. With any luck, his guess had proven correct and they would find his people waiting for them. Then they could start picking up the pieces and building their lives anew.

* * *

They went straight to the river. Across it, the fire was still burning. Since it could no longer move forward, it began to stretch out horizontally. For a moment Kankri stood on the bank and simply stared. Then, without a word, he stepped into the water and began to walk upriver. He insisted it was the best way to do it, since they couldn't leave tracks for any threshecutioners to follow. Meulin seemed nervous about going in the river, but at its deepest it was only waist-high. So she plunged in and fell into step beside him.

"Did you think of another story?" Meulin asked after several minutes of silence. The question surprised her new friend, almost as though he'd forgotten she were there.

Kankri smiled a bit. "Uh, no."

"You said your custodian is a troll. How did that happen? There's gotta be a story in that," Meulin insisted.

She had a point. And he knew the story well enough. His mother had told it to him many times. So, he launched into the story. The only bits he left out were the parts about how he was a mutant. Mother loved to tell him that his mutation was what caught her attention in the first place. He was the only candy red grub in the group, and the only one she'd ever seen before. 'Unique' is what she called him. Special, even.

"She carried me up to the surface, and she said the exit let us out into a desert. And she said there was this huge bright star hanging right above us in the sky," Kankri told her. "She carried me through the desert for a few nights, and then we found the Tribe. They took us in and we've been with them ever since."

Meulin grinned. "You're really cool."

"I'm cool?" Kankri looked at her in disbelief

"Yeah! You live out in the wild and you're a feral and you were a rogue from the start!" Meulin gushed with excitement.

Kankri flushed with embarrassment. "You're a feral and a rogue too!"

"It's not the same. But I look more like a feral than you. You're not dirty enough," Meulin said, looking him over skeptically.

He crossed his arms, being careful not to touch his burn. "I don't see why feral trolls have to be dirty. There are rivers we can take baths in."

"Because that's how it is in the stories," Meulin persisted. Suddenly she smirked devilishly, as though a wicked idea had entered her mind. Slowly she knelt down and plunged her hands into the water. When she stood back up, she was holding two handfuls of mud. Kankri's eyes widened.

"Don't you dare-!" he shouted.

Laughing, Meulin lunged at him and smeared the mud across his face. He attempted to fight her off, but to no avail. The mud was on his cheeks, in his hair, on his horns. Slowly their battle began to turn into a wrestling match. They splashed and laughed and squealed, each one fighting for control. In the end Meulin triumphed and managed to catch Kankri in a headlock. But he used the opportunity to grab a handful of mud. When she released him, he smeared it on her face in retaliation.

"Didn't make much of a difference!" he teased.

"Kankri!" she squealed, grinning delightedly.

He laughed and began to hurry away from her. But the water in the river was still waist-high. There was no such thing as a quick getaway at that point. Meulin tackled him, sending them both underwater. They continued to play for several hours. Neither of them had had another troll to play with before in their entire lives. Having someone their age around was a completely new and delightful experience. By the end of the night they'd only made it to the river crossing that Kankri remembered. But they'd already become best friends by the time they reached it.


	8. The Heiress and the Mutant

"Once upon a time, sweeps and sweeps ago, there was a peaceful Empress. She was beautiful and gentle and kind. And she loved lowbloods. She wanted to take care of them and help them. So that's what she did. All the highbloods did. Trolls were more peaceful then, I think. They helped each other more. Well, one night, a messenger came to the Empress and told her a fuchsia blood had been born. The Empress was very happy, because she wanted to raise the heiress herself so that she would be a kind and loving queen too. Then a second messenger came in and said that a mutantblood had been born in the same brood as the heiress-"

"A mutantblood?" Meulin interrupted him suddenly, raising her eyebrows. "What do you mean a mutantblood?"

He sighed in exasperation and ducked under a tree branch. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Ok, ok!" Meulin said, ducking under the same branch.

"Since the grub was a mutantblood, there wouldn't be a lusus that would take him. So the Empress ordered that both him and the heiress were to be taken to a big palace on an island. She decided that when the heiress turned three sweeps old, she'd go to the palace and live there so she could train the princess how to be queen," Kankri continued. The path turned upwards, and they began to head up a slope. He recognized the area from the last time they had made the journey. Kankri had only been two sweeps old at the time, but he remembered how his mother struggled to get them both over this hill. She was carrying him on her back, and his arms were wrapped around her neck.

"Did she?" Meulin asked.

"You have to wait till the end of the story!" he answered.

His friend huffed, but didn't say anything else.

"The heiress and the mutant were best friends. They were the only wrigglers on the island. Everyone else was grown, and was a servant," Kankri went on.

"Like you and me!" Meulin interjected.

He glanced back at her and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You said there aren't any other wrigglers in the Tribe. We're going to be the only two. Everyone else is a grown-up troll. And we're best friends. Aren't we?" Meulin smiled brightly at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Of course we're best friends," he said. "Except we're going to have a happy ending."

Meulin froze. "They're not going to have a happy ending?"

"Just listen!" Kankri said, sighing in exasperation. His friend now fell completely silent. He could feel her eyes burrowing into his back as they walked. She didn't want there to be a sad ending, he realized. "When the heiress got to be three sweeps old, the Empress came just like she said. But training to be a queen is a lot of hard work. And the mutant didn't get to see her much anymore. They didn't get to play very much. They both started to become unhappy."

He paused, waiting for her to interrupt. But Meulin was silent.

So, he continued. "The mutant was unhappy because no one would listen to him. He was just someone everyone felt sorry for. They didn't think he could actually do anything. He started to become bitter. Everything and anything made him mad. And the heiress was unhappy because she had no time to herself. It was always work, work, work. She had all these responsibilities that the Empress was giving her, and she didn't feel like she could do it. She just wanted to have fun and do what she wanted to do. So she ran away."

To be honest, Kankri actually wasn't completely sure what happened after that. But he knew from his dreams that it wasn't anything good. For a moment he thought back to his first vision and shuddered. Maybe the story didn't have to have a sad ending. Meulin liked happy endings better anyway.

"...and he went after her," Kankri said. "And he told her that it was ok to be afraid. That being a good and kind Empress of an entire planet is a lot of responsibility. But he knew that she could do it."

"And what did she say?" Meulin asked quietly.

"She said he mattered," Kankri answered. "And they went home."

"Did she become a bad queen?" His friend was suspicious. She was still expecting the sad ending.

"No. She was a great queen. She was greatest empress Befor- Alternia ever had," Kankri said, ending the story. He paused momentarily. What was he going to say? Befor-? He shook his head, forgetting about it. It was just a slip of the tongue.

He could hear the smile in Meulin's voice. "You said the ending was sad!"

"I lied." Kankri glanced back at her, grinning mischievously. "I just wanted you to stop interrupting! It made you listen, didn't it?"

Meulin giggled. "I guess so."

They reached the top of the hill. From there they could see for miles. Kankri looked out, trying to see if he could remember which direction the camp lay in. The land offered him no hints. All he could see was trees and huge hills and empty glades. He racked his brain for some sort of memory, some sort of hint. But he couldn't remember the rest of the way.

Suddenly, Meulin hopped up into the nearest tree and began to climb. She was at the top in a matter of seconds, carefully perched on the highest branch. Kankri stared up at her in awe. He'd been climbing in trees to get fruit for half a sweep now, and he'd never been able to make it up one that fast. He grinned slightly. Meulin was hatched to live in the wild. He was certain of it. A hive just didn't seem to suit her as well as the rugged, untamed wilderness. "Do you see anything?"

She squinted her eyes and scanned the landscape. "I think I see smoke. But I'm not sure. Come up here and look!"

What took Meulin about fifteen seconds took Kankri a good minute and a half. When he finally joined her at the top of the tree, she pointed towards the northeast. "See? Just over that giant hill."

He frowned, craning his neck. "I don't see it."

"Right _there_!" Meulin said, pointing again.

Finally, he saw it. There was just a bit of black smoke rising up from behind one large hill. Whoever had lit the fire was trying to keep it low. That could definitely be the Tribe, or whatever was left of it. He and Meulin climbed down (Or rather, he did; she went halfway down and then jumped, landing nimbly on all fours.) and began to head in the direction of the fire. The climb down the hill was just as steep as the one going up, and they had to struggle not to lose their footing and go rolling down.

"How far away did that fire look?" Kankri asked once they reached more level ground.

"I think it'd take us three nights to get there," Meulin estimated. "Is that where the camp was?"

He thought back, then shook his head. "No. The camp is at the base of some mountains. There's a river that comes down from there, and the water is always nice and cold. We usually only go there when the weather's warm. But we didn't have a choice this time."

"So we're three nights behind them...and we've been walking for four nights...and it takes ten nights to get there..." Meulin put her finger to her nose. Apparently it was a habit of hers to do that whenever she was attempting to think of something. "So they'll reach it in...three nights. And we'll reach it in six? Is that right?"

Kankri nodded. "It sounds right to me. I just hope we're going the right away."

With that decided, they continued on.

* * *

The longer he traveled with Meulin, the more obvious it was that she had been on her own for quite some time. She was completely self-sufficient. Especially when it came to hunting. At the start of their journey she managed to catch small nut creatures with her bare hands. She was used to eating them raw, but Kankri insisted on making a fire to cook the meat. And while she knew little about covering her tracks or foraging, she was a true creature of the wild. All of her movements were quick and practically silent. Her eyes were sharp, her hearing was keen. She was always on alert. Kankri knew the Tribe was going to love her. She was the perfect feral.

"How do you manage to do that?" he asked as she dropped two nut creatures down beside the fire.

"Do what?" Meulin tilted her head to the side.

"Catch these." Kankri picked up the first beast and began to skin it with his sickle. He'd never been allowed to butcher anything back at the Tribe. They were always afraid he'd have a fainting spell and cut himself on accident. But he had seen it done before, and had a basic idea of what to do.

Meulin sat down next to him and put her feet next to the fire. She wiggled her dirty toes. "My lusus taught me how to do it. Didn't you learn from the other ferals?"

"No," Kankri answered. The business with the nut creature was getting dirty. His hands were covered in light brown blood. It was difficult to separate the meat from such tiny little bones, especially with a tool like a sickle. "They never taught me."

"Why not?" Meulin asked.

The blood was smeared across his palms. It was hot against his skin. And then suddenly he knew that a vision was coming. He tried to look away, tried to fight it off. Of course it was a fruitless effort. In a few seconds his world changed. He was on another strange planet, and he was kneeling beside Rufioh. Brown blood covered the ground. The young troll was horribly injured. He was bleeding from every place imaginable. His body looked twisted and broken in a thousand different places. It hurt to look at the state he was in. Horuss was kneeling beside their injured friend, clutching his hand. Porrim and Aranea stood beside Kankri.

"What happened?" Aranea asked, concerned.

"Damara," Horuss answered gravely.

The vision ended there, thankfully. But Kankri awoke with a migraine and a strong urge to throw up. Meulin was staring down at him with concern and terror.

"Kankri! What's wrong? Are you ok?" She set her hand on his shoulder and helped him sit up. "What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said. "I just...do that, sometimes."

"Fall over like you're dead?!" Meulin frowned at him. "That isn't normal, Kankri! That means...that means you're sick, or something!"

"I'm not sick. It's been happening for a while now," he assured her. "I see certain things and I just...faint. I can't figure out how to stop it. It just keeps happening. But I'm fine. So long as it doesn't happen at a really bad time, I'm fine."

Meulin crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. "What if it does? What if it happened when you were in that fire? You would have burned up!"

He hadn't even thought about that. Sometimes the visions made him go down for several minutes. If he had gone out during the fire, those minutes could have been the difference between living and dying. Suddenly Kankri felt the bile rising up in his throat. He turned his face away from Meulin and vomited. When he was done, he coughed once and shook his head. "I don't want to think about that. I can't control them Meulin, I've tried. Every time I feel it coming on I try to fight it, but it never works."

"I'll help you find a way. Promise," Meulin said.

Kankri wasn't so sure that it was possible. Everyone in the Tribe presumed that his fainting problem stemmed from issues with his blood color, and he agreed with that theory. Unless Meulin found a way to change his genetics, the visions weren't going to be leaving anytime soon.

* * *

"We're still going in the right direction," Kankri said. He was at the top of a tree, glancing towards the northeast. In the distance he could see the hazy outline of the mountain. Getting there would be easy now. They'd just have to head towards that, and they would find the Tribe. At least, he hoped they would. Every night one of them would scale a tree and look for signs of a fire. But they hadn't seen anything since that first night. "We should be there in another four nights."

He climbed back down and went back over to Meulin, who was sitting beside a small stream. She had a stick in her hand and was drawing something in the soft, moist soil. Kankri stood next to her and watched in silence. She drew a large meowbeast with two mouths and a little wriggler curled up at her side. Kankri realized with a pang of sadness that it was her and her lusus.

"Do you miss her?" he asked, sitting beside her.

Meulin nodded slowly. "I miss her a lot."

He frowned slightly, staring at the drawing. "I'm sorry. I bet she really loved you."

"She did. She was the best lusus ever," Meulin agreed. She sighed and ran her hand over the drawing, erasing it. "But being sad won't bring her back."

"So? You can't help but feel sad. I was sad when I thought I lost my custodian. I cried and cried and I wouldn't eat. You're supposed to be upset when you lose someone you love," Kankri told her.

His friend looked at him, tilting her head to the side in her usual way. "But death is apart of life. We're just supposed to deal with it."

"Says who?" Kankri raised an eyebrow. "If you want to be sad, that's ok."

Meulin smiled a little bit. "I don't think I want to be sad anymore, though. I still miss her. But I'm not alone anymore. I think that's what I hated the most. I hated being alone. It was always so quiet and so cold. I didn't have anyone to talk to or play with. It was just me in that empty cave. I never want to go back to that."

"So long as I'm around, you won't be alone," Kankri said. He grinned and bumped his shoulder against hers. "You're not going to be able to get rid of me."

She laughed and bumped her shoulder back against his. "You're like a parasite."

"Exactly like a parasite," he agreed. "One of the blood-sucking ones."

"You're gross," Meulin said. She crinkled her nose in disgust, but she was still smiling.

"At least my hair doesn't look like a nut creature's nest!" he teased. Before Meulin could react, he hopped to his feet and ran through the stream. That sort of remark was enough to initiate a playfight. But she would have to catch him first.

Meulin ran after him, laughing. "Get back here! I'll show you whose hair is a mess!"

"Come and get me!" he shouted over his shoulder.

Eventually, she did. Kankri paid for his teasing remark by having dirt and mud rubbed into his hair. Then she proceeded to braid in leaves and blades of grass, until Kankri looked just as dirty and wild as her.


	9. the Secret

The closer they got to the camp, the more Kankri recognized. There was the spot where he had napped during the bilunar eclipse. There was the huge tree that produced so much fruit it filled seven baskets. There was where the hunters hung their kills so they could be butchered. There was where his mother and the other weavers used to sit as they made clothes and baskets and patches for damaged tents. They were most assuredly in the right place. And, as they neared the camp, they began to see signs of life. Someone had left a few fishing poles lying under a tree. A few baskets were sitting on a large rock, waiting to be filled with food. The Tribe was here. And they were close.

"Come on!" he said, breaking into a run. Together he and Meulin sprinted up the path. He could hear voices in the forest. Singing, laughing, talking. He could smell the campfires. Home was so close he could taste it. They hurried up a hill, and it all came into view. Kankri stopped, and Meulin did too.

They had made new tents. He counted a little over twenty. Before, there had been well over forty. That left him feeling hollow. Over half of the trolls he had known since he was a grub were gone. Never to be seen again.

The camp was mostly silent. Everyone was out working. There would be a lot of work to be done, he realized. They needed food, they needed weapons, they needed everything. They had to start completely from scratch. It would take a sweep to get back to where they had been before.

With Meulin at his side, he walked slowly into the camp. There were a few fires, most of which had burned down. There was a troll kneeling beside one of them, attempting to restart it. She was hunched over it with a piece of flint. She would strike it against another rock, and the sparks would fly into the little nest of dry grass and moss. Then she would lean down and blow gently, very gently, as fire was weak and shy when it was first born. She'd taught him that. When the fire caught, she sat up and watched it. As it grew, she tossed on larger and larger pieces of kindling. All of her movements were deft and gentle. Purposeful and soft.

"Mother," he said, smiling. It felt like it had been a sweep since he had seen her last. Suddenly Kankri realized just how much he'd missed her.

The back stiffened. Slowly, very slowly, she turned and looked over her shoulder. Then, faster than a normal troll could move, she was on her feet and hugging him tightly. She was crushing him against her chest. His arms wrapped tightly around her, happy to finally be close to her again. After what felt like an eternity, they both let go at the same time.

"I thought you were dead," Porrim said. There were tears in her eyes. "I thought you were dead, Kankri."

The tears surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his mother cry. It made him want to cry, too. "I'm sorry."

"Never do that again!" Porrim yelled. But her voice wasn't angry. It was full of relief. "Never, ever do that to me again Kankri. Or I swear-"

He hugged her again, silencing her. "I won't go away again. I promise."

Porrim let out a heavy sigh. She wrapped her arms around him again. Dark green tears were rolling down her cheeks. She kissed his forehead and his nose and his cheeks. Then, finally, she let him go again. It was only then did she notice Meulin. She was standing to the side, watching and not knowing what to do. "Kankri, who is this?"

"This is Meulin!" he said, taking his friend by the hand and pulling her closer. "I met her after the fire."

Meulin smiled. "Hi."

"Meulin...Meulin...as in Meulin, your dream friend?" Porrim said, raising an eyebrow. "Kankri, what is going on here? Why did you bring her? And...why are you two absolutely filthy? Look at you! And what is in your hair?"

Kankri grinned sheepishly. He decided not to answer the dream friend question, as he didn't fully understand it himself. "Her lusus died, and so she had to hide from the drones. I fell asleep in her cave after the fire and she found me. She didn't have anywhere else to go, Mother, and she's just like us."

"The decision isn't up to me, Kanny," Porrim said, sighing. She looked at Meulin, scrutinizing her. Her eyes went over her tangled, matted hair, her mud-smeared skin, her untrimmed claws, her ragged clothes, her bare feet. And, in that moment, she realized that this little troll would be a part of her life from then on. Porrim was able to see what the two younglings could not, and would not until they were much older. She sighed, then smiled. "But, if they let her in...she'll have a place in our tent."

* * *

"Hold still!" Kankri hissed, rubbing the poultice into Meulin's hair. She didn't have much left to wash. Porrim had decided that the majority of her hair could not be salvaged, and cut it. It was simply too matted and tangled to save. Meulin hissed in return and crossed her arms over her chest. Kankri kept rubbing the mixture into her hair. Once he was done, he rubbed what remained on to her horns. They'd found that the poultice not only cleaned hair, but also made horns shinier and healthier-looking.

"Am I done yet?" Meulin whined. "This water is

"If you hold still, you'll be done faster," Porrim said. She was standing on the bank drying off. While the two little ones attempted to clean themselves up, she'd taken the opportunity to take a bath of her own.

"See?" Kankri said. "Now dunk your head."

Meulin held her breath and went under. A few moments later she resurfaced, scrubbing the last of the herbs out of her hair. It looked clean now, at the very least. When they'd gotten in the river her hair had been practically green.

"Are we done now?" she said, teeth chattering.

"Almost," Kankri said, grabbing two rags off the bank. He tossed one to her. He started to clean off his face, using the rag to scrub off the mud and dirt. Meulin followed his example. Kankri tried to work quickly and thoroughly, as the river water really was freezing cold. His toes felt a little numb. When they were done, both trolls scrambled out of the water. Porrim was dressed and waiting for them, holding a towel in each hand.

Kankri took it gratefully and began to dry off. A few other trolls walked past and began to strip down for their own baths. He barely gave them a second glance. Nudity was nothing new to him. The trolls of the Tribe bathed whenever they had down time, and often they did so in front of others. Meulin paused and glanced back at them. She looked from the bathers, to Porrim, then back to the bathers.

"Am I going to have those too?" she asked, glancing down at her chest.

"Have what?" Kankri asked, looking over.

Porrim chuckled and set a hand on each of their shoulders. "Never mind about that. Come on; you two can't run around naked all night."

"Race you back to camp!" Kankri said, looking at Meulin.

"You're on!" she replied, smirking.

Within seconds both wrigglers were racing up the trail, their towels lying forgotten in the dirt. Apparently both of them had either forgotten that they were nude or decided they didn't actually care. With a heavy sigh, Porrim stooped down to pick up the towels and followed after them. The Council (what was left of it) had decided to allow Meulin in with only a few minutes of debate. Now it was like she had always been a part of their lives.

Porrim headed up the path at her own pace. After a few minutes of walking she was able to see Kankri and Meulin up ahead. Kankri was on the ground, and Meulin was crouching beside him. As she got closer, she could hear what they were saying.

"It's fine! Just go ahead!" Kankri said. His hands were gripping his knee.

"Just let me see it!" Meulin tugged at one of his wrists, trying to remove it. "If it's nothing, then let me see!"

"Let you see what?" Porrim asked, approaching the two young trolls.

Kankri looked up at his mother. His eyes were pleading, as though he were begging her for help. "I fell and cut my knee."

"Oh? Well let's have a look," Porrim said, kneeling down best him.

"No! I don't want her to see!" He jerked his head towards Meulin, who seemed a bit hurt. But still his mother did not understand.

"Meulin can handle a little bit of blood, Kanny," Porrim said. She pulled his hands away. The cut was nothing serious. He'd simply fallen and scraped his knee. A drop of candy red blood started to roll down the side of his leg. Some of it was smeared on his palms. For a moment she was almost surprised by the color. It was so easy to forget that Kankri was a mutant. The fact faded in the back of her mind, buried by chores that had to be done and a million different worries. But now his blood blazed bright for all three of them to see.

Meulin's mouth dropped open in shock. "What...what's _wrong _with you?"

She didn't know.

Of course, Porrim realized this far too late. That's what he had been trying to tell her. She didn't know, and he didn't want her to find out. At least, not this way. Before she could do or say anything Kankri was up on his feet and sprinting towards the camp. "Kankri!"

He was already gone.

"Damn it," Porrim said quietly. She ran her hand through her still-wet hair and stood. Meulin stayed crouched on the dirt, staring down the path.

"He's a mutant." Meulin spoke the words so quietly, Porrim almost didn't catch them.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, he is."

"Everyone here is a mutant," Meulin said, getting to her feet slowly. "Even if they don't look like they are. That's why everyone wants to live out here. Because they'll be killed if they try to live with everyone else."

Porrim offered her her hand. Together they started to walk back towards the camp. "Not everyone here is a mutant. Some of them are criminals."

"That's not much better," Meulin said, glancing up at her.

The older troll chuckled slightly. "No, I don't suppose it is. But you are right. People live out here because we can't go on living with everyone else. For one reason or another. Sometimes it's their genetics. Sometimes it's something they did. Sometimes it's just something that they can't control. Like you. Your lusus died, and you went feral so that you wouldn't be culled."

Meulin nodded once. "Why did you come to live out here?"

"I suppose it was a mix of two things," Porrim said, glancing down at her. "I'm a jade blood. So when I was nine sweeps old, I was sent down into the caverns to take care of the Grub Mother. It was my duty as a part of that caste. And I hated it. Then I found Kankri, and I knew he wouldn't survive if he didn't have someone to look after him. So I took him, and I left behind the place I hated."

"What about Kankri's friend? The one that limps and can't see well? Why is she here? She's almost a highblood," Meulin asked. "They can do whatever they want."

"Kennoe?" Porrim asked, raising an eyebrow. "She's a threshecutioner that went rogue. Why, I can't say for sure. I never asked her."

They'd almost reached the camp. They could see the pitched tents and the fire that was cooking that night's meal.

"...why didn't he tell me?" Meulin asked.

"I'm not sure." The fact that Kankri had hidden his blood color from Meulin showed that he was somehow ashamed of it. Or, at the very least, scared of her reaction. That meant he was beginning to get a grasp on the severity of his mutation. His age of innocence was slowly beginning to end. "Perhaps you should ask him."

When they reached the tent, Kankri was already dressed. He was attending to his scraped knee on his own. Porrim watched him while Meulin got dressed. (One of the first things Porrim had done was made some clothes for the poor child; she could hardly keep running around in those rags she'd been wearing.) Finally, not knowing what else to do, she went over and kissed the top of Kankri's head. It was her way of apologizing to him. He tilted his face up to kiss her cheek, and she knew that all had been forgiven.

"I'm going to go talk to Kiroph," Porrim told him. "He wants to see if I can help make some new fishing nets."

Kankri nodded, accepting her explanation without comment. Once she was gone, Meulin sat down in front of him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

"I was afraid," he answered.

Meulin frowned. "Afraid of what?"

Her friend couldn't seem to offer an answer. He just shrugged and began the bandage up his knee. Most of the bleeding had stopped, but there was blood still on his hands.

"You can tell me anything you know," Meulin said. "I'll still be your friend. I'd even be your friend no matter what your blood color was."

Kankri smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow. "What if I were a sea-dweller?"

"Maybe," Meulin said, smiling back. "Though you'd look pretty stupid with fins instead of ears."

They both grinned. Kankri finished bandaging up his knee. He rolled his pant leg back down over it, and it was as though it had never happened. "...I was afraid you wouldn't like me if you knew I was a mutantblood. You weren't part of the Tribe yet, and I didn't know how someone from the outside might react. And then I didn't know how to tell you because I felt bad about lying to you."

"It's ok," she said. "I know why you did it."

He smiled slightly, then looked down at the dried blood on his hands. "...you said I could tell you anything, right? If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"Duh." Meulin frowned. "What is it?"

"You have to swear on your life that you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you. Not Mother, not anyone." Suddenly it was as though Kankri were a completely different person. His face was stern, and his eyes seemed to look right through her.

Meulin nodded quickly, if only to make this strange Kankri go away. "I swear."

"On your life?"

"On my life."

Kankri took a deep breath, as though he needed strength to say the following sentence: "I have visions."

"What? You mean, your dreams? I already knew-" Meulin began, but he interrupted her.

"No, no! Not the dreams. When I fall down like I'm dead? That's when they happen. I'll see or hear or even smell something and it sets it off. And I see something that relates to whatever set it off," Kankri explained. "Like...like that night when I was skinning the nut creature? I saw all that brown blood and it set one off. One of my dream friends, Rufioh, is a brown blood. And I saw him. And he was hurt. Bad. I didn't think he was going to live. And that brown blood was everywhere. Seeing that nut creature's blood made me remember_ his _blood."

A silence fell between the two of them. The words had just poured from Kankri's mouth. Once the secret was out, he wanted nothing more than to tell her about every single vision he'd had for the past half sweep. But instead, he waited. Meulin sat facing him, trying to process what she'd just heard. It was a hefty secret, and she was certain that she was the first to hear about it.

"...remember. You said you _remembered_ seeing his blood," Meulin said suddenly. "Like they're memories or something."

"Sometimes they feel like that," Kankri admitted. "Sometimes- sometimes when I come out of one, I forget where I am. I forget who the people around me are."

They were silent again, trying to make sense of it. Neither of them moved or spoke until the call went out for dinner.

Life carried on as usual for everyone in the Tribe. Their group was smaller now, but it was not broken. If anything, losing half the group had only strengthened them. Now there were only twenty-four mouths to feed, rather than forty-seven. Kankri and Meulin's lives continued on, though their relationship had changed slightly. Their friendship, forged by chance and circumstance, had been sealed forever with a single secret. Each time Kankri had a vision, he would tell Meulin about it whenever they were alone. And each time they attempted to piece together some meaning, some answer to the riddle. Yet it always alluded them.

Two sweeps marched past. The Tribe chose a new camp to replace the one that had been burned. It was far from the original sight, and doubled their journey time. But no one complained. Life was quiet and safe. That was all that mattered.

Then, the sickness hit.


	10. Sickness

The sickness struck them like lightning. There was no warning. A troll named Kafele came down with it first. One night she lay sick in her tent with a fever and a bad cough. Twenty-four hours later she was dead. Then, two more trolls fell ill. Then two more. The strongest of them lasted seven nights. Some succumbed the same night their symptoms materialized.

Whatever the illness was, it had no regard for blood color. Lowbloods, midbloods, and highbloods alike fell to it. The symptoms were a bit like a disease known as the Flux, which was common among lowbloods. It began with coughing. At first it was just a dry hack. Then, slowly, the afflicted would began to cough up phlegm. Phlegm quickly turned to blood. It would come out of their mouths in alarming quantities with each cough. By that time they would have a horrible fever. In the end stages, it would be difficult for them to breathe. Blood would drip from their noses, mouths, and eyes. If the fever did not kill them, the blood did. They choked on it, drowned in it.

The sick trolls were put in a large tent a little bit away from camp. A handful of trolls volunteered to care for them, only to fall sick themselves. After ten nights, Kankri, Porrim, and Lacene were the only healers left standing. Both Lacene and Porrim were impervious to disease, and it was thought that Kankri's mutantblood somehow gave him immunity.

He paced through the rows of sick trolls, looking at the familiar faces. Many of them were in the final throes of the disease. It was difficult to watch. Kankri known many of these trolls since he was a grub, and now he had to watch them sicken and die.

Viovis began to cough violently. Without missing a beat, Kankri grabbed a wooden bowl and went over to her. He held it underneath her mouth while she coughed. Yellow blood oozed from her mouth and nose. The sight of the yellow blood, dripping slowly into the bowl, began to trigger a vision. Kankri closed his eyes and managed to suppress it. Now that he was six sweeps, he was handling them better. Most of the time he could fight them off. But there were times when they simply refused to be ignored.

"Here," Kankri said, taking a rag and wiping her face. "Do you want some water?"

Viovis nodded and laid back down, too exhausted to sit up for more than a couple of minutes. He stood and walked to the corner of the tent. A single clay jug stood filled with cool, clear water. It had to last another three days, and it had to last for all of them. Kankri poured a small amount into a wooden cup and carried it back to Viovis. She drank it gratefully, then fell asleep.

"Kankri? I brought you some food," Meulin said, entering the tent. Her voice was barely above a whisper. The tent was as silent as a grave, aside from the sounds of coughing and labored breathing.

He went to the entrance to meet her, taking a handful of berries from her. Since Kankri and the sick trolls were not doing work, they were not receiving rations. They were forced to rely on the kindness of the healthy trolls. But, so far, everyone had been generous. Porrim had given up her rations entirely, and was existing off of blood from a couple of willing participants.

"Thank you Meulin." Kankri smiled at her. Initially, she had wanted to help care for the sick. But she was too good of a hunter to remain in a tent all night. So she did her part wherever she could. "I'm starving."

"You need fresh air," she said. "Come sit outside with me."

Kankri glanced over his shoulder at the sick trolls. "But-"

"Go on Kankri," Porrim said, speaking up from the opposite end of the tent. She was administering some medicine to one of their patients, attempting to bring their fever down. "You need to rest."

With that, Meulin yanked him out of the tent. They settled themselves underneath a tree, not too far from the tent. Kankri devoured the berries in a matter of moments. Often when people brought them rations he would pass them along to the sick. It gave them strength, but it left him with an empty stomach.

"You look tired," Meulin said, watching him eat. She hugged her knees close to her chest.

"You do too," he said. "Are your nightmares getting any better?"

She shook her head. Now that they were six sweeps old, they were beginning to make the transition into adulthood. Meulin had started having horrible nightmares. With no sopor slime to ease her sleep, she would wake in the middle of the day screaming. She was more aggressive than before, more keen to fight. Kankri, however, still had pleasant dreams. The violent thoughts that plagued the subconsciousness of all trolls seemed to be absent in him. He remained as he had always been.

"Have yours started?" she asked. "At all?"

"No," Kankri replied. "Mother says it's because I'm a late bloomer."

"Lucky you," Meulin sighed, resting her chin on top of her knees. "Then again, maybe it's a trade-off. For the...you know."

"I think I'd take the nightmares over the visions," he said, lowering his voice on instinct. The visions were still their own private secret. No one knew about them, not even Porrim. "But I'm getting better at repressing them. Maybe soon I'll stop seeing them altogether."

"Maybe," Meulin said. "Maybe not."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by coughing from within the tent. Kankri looked over and frowned. Part of him dreaded going back in. He didn't want to watch the trolls he cared about die in slow agony. They were all certainly going to die. None of the medicines they used seemed to help. They could bring down the fever, but the coughing and the blood refused to respond to any combination of herbs. None of them had the medical knowledge to deal with this.

_Well_, he thought, _why don't we just find someone who does?_

He knew at once that it would be their only chance. But finding a doctor would be a challenge. The Tribe treated everything with herbal remedies. They knew what plants could ease vomiting and what juices took the sting out of burns. The knowledge was passed from troll to troll, and most people could treat themselves for a variety of ailments. It was not incredibly different out in the rest of the world. A bad cough or a sprained ankle was enough to get you culled. So most preferred to treat themselves to the best of their ability. But serious illnesses and injuries that required treatment would require a doctor, and that was a risky business.

Most doctors learned their craft in secret from an older, more experienced mentor. They almost exclusively worked on highblood patients, as they were the only ones who could afford their discreet services. Where would they find a doctor who would be willing to work on lowbloods and midbloods? Feral lowbloods and midbloods at that?

_There has to be someone out there,_ Kankri thought, his mind racing. The others in the Tribe liked to talk about how cruel the world outside their camp was. But surely it couldn't be that bad, could it? His mother had told him that a threshecutioner would kill him without a second thought. Yet he had been spared by one. There was compassion in Alternia; you just had to go out and find it.

He got to his feet and smiled. "Meulin, I think it's safe to say the Tribe has reached a state of emergency."

"Yes, it has," Meulin said with a sigh. "Everyone's sick."

"You know what that means, right?" Kankri offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. "It means we have to go to the city."

* * *

The idea of going into the city was not welcomed warmly. It was only after several more deaths and several new cases of the sickness did the Tribe begin to realize that this was not something they could beat with herbal remedies and careful quarantine.

"I still don't know where we're expected to find a doctor," Lacene said, frowning. She grabbed a rag and began to mop up a puddle of blood that had been left by the most recent deceased troll. "And if we do find one, how do we know we can trust them? We won't be able to pay them, and they can make a fortune by selling us to the threshers."

"Surely someone will take pity on us?" Kankri said. He knelt beside Sanuor, who was one of the recently afflicted. They were attempted to keep the bleeding at bay for as long as possible. Sanuor was a mutant like many other members of the Tribe, but his was not typically visible. His mutation was also potentially deadly: his blood refused to coagulate. Something as simple as a bloody nose could cause him to bleed to death. A sickness like this, which caused large amounts of internal bleeding, would kill him in an hour if they did not find some way to prevent the bleeding from starting. They were attempting to accomplish this by giving him a new herbal concoction that was meant to thicken the blood. Whether or not it would accomplish this task was yet to be seen.

"Kankri, there are very few trolls out there capable of pity," Lacene replied. She frowned at him and dipped her bloody rag into a bowl of water.

He thought of the threshecutioner. Even though it had been two sweeps, he could still see his face in his mind's eye. Kankri said nothing. The chance encounter with the threshecutioner had remained a secret from everyone, including Meulin.

"Compassion has its limits," Porrim agreed.

"It didn't with you," Kankri said quietly. "There are kind trolls out there. Even highbloods can be good."

Lacene and Porrim exchanged a look. It was difficult for Kankri to fully grasp what the world outside their group was like. Perhaps one day he would see it for himself, and realize just how lucky he was.

The young troll finished giving Sanuor his medicine and began to move on to the next patient. While Kankri was helping them, Sanuor spoke suddenly.

"I knew one," he said quietly. His voice was hoarse.

Kankri glanced over at him. "Hm?"

"A kind troll," Sanuor said. "She was a doctor."

That piqued their interest. He now had their full attention. Even Lacene stopped what she was doing to listen.

"Could she help us?" Kankri asked.

"I don't know," Sanuor answered. "She's a lowblood. It's been many sweeps...she's probably old now. If they didn't catch her treating people. If they did, she was probably executed."

"If we wanted to find her," Kankri said, "where would we look?"

At that moment Sanuor was overcome by a violent coughing fit. Kankri comforted him the best he could, but he couldn't help but feel impatient. Every night, the number of the sick and dying increased. It seemed that with every minute that ticked by, their group was that much closer to total annihilation at the hands of the mysterious virus. When Sanuor finally recovered, he provided an answer.

"Last I heard, she was living in the country," Sanuor said. "South of Metrollpolis."

"Metrollpolis? That's far from here." Lacene frowned. They were at their third camp of the sweep, and it was far from even the smallest town. After their other camp burned, they'd made it a point to get as far away from civilization was physically possible.

Porrim looked to her. "One of us could probably make the journey fairly quick. We're faster than the others."

"I want to go," Kankri said quietly. For three sweeps he'd been working for his food within the Tribe. Most of the time he was relegated to water duty, foraging, or patching tents due to his 'fainting spells'. Everyone else was busy risking their lives for the good of the Tribe, and he was always picking fruit. But he was getting a handle on his visions. He was six sweeps old now. It was time to step up. "I'm _going_ to go."

His mother sighed. "Kankri, you're not old enough. It'd be too dangerous for you out there."

"I'm six," Kankri replied with a frown. "When you were six you-"

"No one is going anywhere. At least not yet," Lacene interrupted. "We don't even know this person's name, or if she's still alive. For all we know she was culled sweeps ago."

"I hope not," Kankri said, turning back to his work. He could always fight it out with his mother later. "She's our only hope."

* * *

The remaining members of the Council seated themselves beside the fire. The rest of the Tribe watched them anxiously. Lacebe spoke up first to tell them the results of their meeting. She cleared her throat, then said: "We've decided we're going to send a small group out to look for the doctor Sanuor described. At most the group should contain no more than three trolls with no visible mutations. Are there any volunteers?"

There was a moment of tense silence. Then, suddenly, Kankri and Meulin's hands shot up at the same time. The Council looked to them.

"We'd like to volunteer," Kankri said, ignoring the look his mother was giving them.

"Kankri, Meulin, you two are much too young to be going anywhere," Lacene said, frowning at them.

"I don't know," Jupaza said, speaking up. "I think it's about time they started pulling their weight."

"They've been pulling their weight for two sweeps now!" Porrim hissed suddenly. She had been quiet at the beginning, but now she could hold her silence no longer. "I'm their custodian, and I forbid it."

Kankri frowned and looked to Kennoe for help. She most likely couldn't see his pleading look, as her vision had never fully recovered from her trip into broad daylight. But she seemed to sense it. "Porrim, they're old enough to make decisions for themselves. They're six sweeps old! Plus, it's not a bad idea."

"Excuse me?" Lacene said, turning on Kennoe. "How is sending two wrigglers to find a doctor a good idea?"

"How much attention do people give wrigglers?" Kennoe asked, arching an eyebrow. "None. They walk past them like they're not even there. Yeah, nubs is a mutant. But his eyes are still gray. No one would be able to tell unless they drew blood. And I think Meulin would get to them before they got to him."

Kiroph frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "She's got a point. But I still don't like the idea of sending the two of them out alone."

"I'll go then," Porrim said, frowning. She looked at Kankri. "Where he goes, I go."

"Please tell me you three aren't serious about this," Lacene said, looking at the rest of the Council. "This is a very important task, and you're thinking of entrusting it with two six sweep olds and only one adult?"

"If the wrigglers want to do it, let them do it," Jupaza replied. She looked at the other members of the Tribe. "Does anyone else want to volunteer?"

No one raised their voice or their hand. None of them were keen on going back towards civilization after the last incident. The idea of facing threshecutioners – or any other type of authority – was enough to make them want to take their chances with the virus. It was decided then that Kankri, Meulin, and Porrim would be the ones to go hunting for the doctor. The meeting was dismissed, and everyone returned to their tents. Lacene alone went down to the sick tent. She was now the only healer they had who could safely tend to the sick.

"You two know you're far too young to do this," Porrim said, her voice full of steel.

"We can do it," Meulin replied, frowning. "We've made it on our own before. Remember?"

"That was out of necessity. It couldn't be helped," Porrim snapped. "This isn't a necessity."

Kankri frowned at her. "Yes, it is. Someone needs to go get a doctor. Even though it's dangerous, someone has to do it. Or else everyone will suffer."

With that, Kankri and Meulin curled up together on their sleeping pile. After they settled down together, he turned his face away and coughed once.


End file.
